The Tale of a Rider
by RacRules
Summary: Before Flynn Rider became Flynn Rider, there was a forgotten orphan named Eugene Fitzherbert. This is his story, from his life in the orphanage to his decent into thievery.
1. Chapter 1

**Wow, I've been on a fanfic writing roll lately! I've had a lot of time I guess. (Four day weekend, ya know?) **

**This story came from an idea I got from the TVTropes page for Tangled. It said that "Fitz-…" was actually a surname meaning "the bastard child of…" and I found this a great back-story for Flynn. This is also somewhat inspired by **_**Annie**_**.

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"Will you tell me the story again, Nan?"

A thin hand paused at the candle its owner was just about to snuff out. The woman sighed, frowning down at the boy's large brown eyes with her own tired grey ones.

"Again, Eugene?" She groaned, only to be given a rapid head nod.

Nan sighed again, kneeling down to the floor in front of the sitting boy. Though she was by no means a very old woman, her body, much like the building of the orphanage itself, had grown withered and crinkled beyond its years, bones cracking from the pressure of the tiny hands and mouths she served day after day. Feathery chestnut hair hung escaped from her messy bun, framing the crow's feet invading the skin around her eyes.

He has asked for this story countless times. He could tell it to _her, _really. But no matter how tired she was of repeating it, she loved the handsome little boy sitting cross-legged in front of her far too much to refuse.

As quietly as she could, in order to not disturb the countless other children shivering in their moth-eaten cotton blankets, she began.

"It was a stormy, rainy night, far too much for anyone to be out. Even the rats had found shelter in their holes, so I never would have thought any person would dare to venture out into the kingdom streets. I was just about to go to bed when, with a crash of thunder, a sharp knock sounded at my door."

A smile forced itself onto her lips when she saw, as always, his face light up in excitement at this part.

"I opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever was disturbing me. But, to my surprise, there stood a young woman, bulge on her stomach telling me she was with child."

Eugene lost his small breaths, just for a second. "Mother," he whispered, and Nan nodded back at him.

"She was rather pretty, no more than seventeen. She had brown hair, braided, and large brown eyes that quivered with worry. 'It's coming,' she told me, 'and I had nowhere else to go.' I quickly let her in, shivering and soaked to the bone, leading her to the upstairs room."

A pearly white, breathtaking grin filled the boy's face. "Where I was born."

"She told me what had happened; she was a maidservant of the father, the great knight Sir Herbert, who had died in battle not a month before. Though he had promised to give the child a home somewhere, his widow would have nothing of it, and threw her out into the cold."

Eugene's smile fell. Nan knew he hated this part, and she hated telling it to him. He always wanted the full story, though, and if she tried to leave it out, he would cross his little arms, stamp his little foot and demand she continue. He was always consoled, however, when she continued to his birth, when his face brighten once again and melt her heart away.

"Oh, the racket that was made! Her cries filled the orphanage, and the other children banged on the door, wishing to know what was happening! I worked all night, getting that baby out, but when I did, why, I had never seen a more beautiful child in all my life."

"And you _still _haven't." Nan couldn't help but chuckle at his proud smirk.

"And I still haven't. The girl, for she never told me her name, looked at him with such love and affection it broke my weak old heart in two. But alas, it was all too much for her, and her own heart beat for the last time that night as she passed onto heaven."

"Just say she died, Nan. I'm plenty old enough for the 'D' word." The boy was somewhat right, Nan noticed. The first time she told him this story he was but three, and she couldn't bear to come right out and say die to such a small child. Eugene was older now, true. His soft baby fat had just begun to wither away, replaced by faint young muscles. Still, he wasn't yet completely hardened by the world, and she was going to avoid that word for just a little longer.

"But just before she left, she said her little son's name: 'Eugene. So that all may remember he is of noble blood.' For you see, Eugene means—"

"Born of royalty."

"Born of royalty, indeed." Nan pressed her lips to the boy's dirty forehead, finally blowing out the candle. "Good night, Eugene Fitzherbert."

The boy curled up under his worn blanket, gripping his greatest treasure: The Tales of Flannigan Rider. The book, worn and faded from years of admiration and covered in smudges from dirty fingers, was the brightest light of the orphanage, giving the run-down children inspiration and hope every time Eugene read its words.

The book had been given to the boy by a kindly old bookseller when he was seven. Eugene had brought back a stolen atlas (well, in reality he had stolen it for a dare, but was quite guilty afterwards. Not quite guilty enough to confess, though). In gratitude, the man bestowed upon him the best adventure story in his shop, even helping him in learning to read it. Ever since, Eugene had spent the nights telling it to all the other children, and his literacy has made him something of a leader to them all, along with his strength and speed. Nan was especially thankful, as learning to read had greatly improved his grammar and speech. She never was able to teach to the orphans all on her own, and it was nice to have at least one child who could speak properly.

Nan gently shut the door to the orphan's quarters and retired to her own room, just big enough to hold a single rickety wooden bed and a tiny pot of coals. The woman barely had enough room to slowly sit down on her rough hay mattress.

"Oh God, please relieve my weary bones of these aches." she moaned, lying down on the creaky frame and closing her dry eyes.

* * *

Sunlight drifting though the small windows of the orphanage illuminated clumps of dust inhabiting every corner. Eugene's eyes blinked open, sleep still hanging over him in a heavy fog. The other children moaned in protest, some covering their heads back up with the blankets. The beds, or rather, flat straw-stuffed mats crushed together in disarray, cluttered the floor like a handful of sticks fallen from the hands of a careless child.

"Get up, ya lazy slugs!" The oldest boy, Armond, barked as his muddy bare feet leaped onto the bed beside him.

"Get offa my bed!" the girl inside, Lissie, bellowed, kicking at his legs with her own pudgy feet. Armond grunted, scrunching up in nose. Snorting, he spat a glob of brown slime in her squealing face.

"Shut yer yap, ya floozy."

"Don't call her a floozy!" Eugene jumped out of bed, marching over to the laughing boy. "She isn't even seven, you dog! Get off her bed before I make you!"

"Aw, Lissie's little hero is gonna get me off 'er bed." Armond jumped up and down, littering the blanket with clumps of dried dirt. Before the he could react, Eugene dove strait into his legs, sending him crashing onto the sleeping boy behind them and landing in a heap of limps and elbows.

"Hey!" He shouted, but it was lost in the chorus of screaming children as Eugene and Armond rolled on the ground, caught in a whirlwind of punches and shoves. The girls screeched in disgust, dancing out of the tumbling boy's way.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The cries rang through the wooden walls of the orphanage, until they travelled to a certain groaning woman's chamber. She growled under her breath, marching over to the orphan's room and tearing open the door.

"Get off each other and shut up or I'll send you to the woods!" Nan shouted, ratty curtains of hair almost covering her face. In the blink of an eye, the children were silent. They stared at her with wide eyed shock as if she had just caught them with their fingers in the jelly jar.

"Eugene started it!" Armond fell to his knees, sobbing and gripping his chest, "I-I was just trying t' get outta bed a-and then he came over an' started hitting me real bad…"

Nan's attention drifted over to Eugene, his arms crossed and eyes rolling off to the side.

"…And I think he broke my nose! See, it wiggles!"

"He's lyin', Nana." Lissie poked her nose out from under the blanket she had been hiding under. "Armond was being mean to me, and Eugene went and stopped him."

"Quite violently." Nan raised a sharp eyebrow at him, his head hanging limp.

"It was the only way, m'am."

"Uh huh." Nan shook her head slowly, placing her fingertips to her forehead. "Eugene, Armond, extra chores tonight."

"But—"

"No buts. Come on, children, time to eat."

The boys slugged behind their fellow orphans, glaring at each other all the way.

Gruel. Of course it had to be gruel.

Eugene mashed his "meal" with the back of his spoon, wrinkling his nose. Someone out there was having smoked ham with brown sugar glaze, spiced apples and poached eggs, and he was having a lump of grayish…_something. _To be honest, he had no idea. How did he, the son of a knight, get stuck eating some mystery food (if it was even food) to keep from starving?

It was that moment, that exact moment, that Eugene had a great epiphany. A lantern lit in his mind, like a gift from God himself. He had realized his great life's ambition.

To be filthy, disgustingly, atrociously rich.

How he would get there, that was the problem. The folks out in the city weren't exactly jumping to hire any orphaned child. He pondered in silence, ignoring his peer's shouting and dodging the flung spoonfuls of food. The single orphanage clock ticked on as the meal progressed. His gruel grew cold as he was lost in thought, making it all the more disgusting (if that was even possible), but he still got no answer.

Finally, the meal time had ended, and Eugene's gruel still sat uneaten in his bowl. He scrapped it out the window and bounded towards the room of the only adult he really knew.

"Nan, how can I get rich?"

"…What?" The woman gave a startled jump at the boy standing in her doorway.

"Rich. I want to be rich. But how can I get there? I've thought and thought and thought, but I can't think of anything. It seems there's nothing that can get poor people like us rich."

"Isn't that the truth." Nan mumbled, combing back her hair with her fingers. "Eugene, I have no idea how you can become rich. To be completely honest to you, our lives are always going to be difficult; always going to be a struggle to earn a living. That's the way life works."

"It's not fair." The boy slumped onto her bed. "Life's not fair."

"You, my boy, have just learned a great lesson."

Eugene huffed, glaring up at her, "I hate that lesson."

"We all do, honey. We all do. Now get out, you're not supposed to be in here."

As Nan watched the orphan go, she couldn't help but let her heart sink. To think, if his father had just waited one more month to die, or if the man's wife hadn't been so cruel, he could be living a comfortable, if not happy, lifestyle. Could she really blame the wife, though? If it had been Nan's husband that created a child with another woman, she wouldn't dive to save him either. But surely there was an alternative to simply casting the mother out to die! Now, instead of being a healthy, content young boy proud of his noble blood, he can only curse at the man who brought him on this Earth only to be treated like another piece of trash.

The boy had a heart, however, despite all he's lived with. Even if he did his best to hide it at times, Nan could see it clear as day. That heart could be a great lover one day, if he'd only let it.

* * *

"And with a slash of his sword, Flannigan had defeated the champion at his own game! Raising his fist to the sky, he…"

Little eyes stared up at Eugene, wide with excitement. Whenever this forgotten boy cracked the spine of his only belonging, suddenly, it was if he was a god. His words lifted their spirits, charmed them like snakes, brought them to a peace and quiet no other force could ever hope for.

"The king, amazed and overjoyed with the skills of this simple man, bestowed upon him his greatest possible gift: a sabre, laced in jewels and adorned with gold. 'Go, and use this great weapon against an even greater opponent.' Flannigan, leaping onto his horse with a single sweeping stride, galloped into the cheering crowd and was lost to the sunset."

Eugene looked up at his followers with a grin, "Well, I guess that's the last of tonight's chapter."

Groans filled the room.

"Just a little more?" The youngest girl, Mary, pleaded. She folded her hands, staring up at him with shiny blue eyes. "I wanna know what happens next!"

"Not unless you want less tomorrow." Eugene tucked his book inside his bed. It was not at all a terribly safe place, but it was all he had.

"Oh my gosh, its tonight!" Lissie sang in delight, catapulting herself towards the window, the entire thing covered by her six-year-old face.

"What's tonight?" Mary asked.

"The lanterns for the lost princess!" The girls sighed dreamily; the boys groaned in boredom.

"So what?" Jack, a boy just a year younger than Eugene, snapped. "They come every year."

"But they're so pretty!" A pair of red braids, belonging to the one of oldest girls named Catherine, squished against Lissie to get a peek. "And maybe this year the princess'll see 'em!"

"Get offa that window." Jack's twin (they were usually found together, which often gave Nan a terrible time trying to tell them apart), Phillip, continued, "It ain't like ya can see anything from there anyway."

"Yes I can!" Lissie pressed her nose to the cracked wood, "And they're so bright! And pink!"

"The princess has been missing for years now." Eugene lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, "the chances that she's still out there are slim to none."

"Yeah!" With a cackle, Jack yanked at one of Catherine's fiery pigtails. She let out an ear-splitting shriek, spinning around to tackle him to the ground. Her long nails bit at his face, but Jack continued to shout past them, "I bet ya…she's either…dead…or a…slave…in some…desert country!"

"Yeah!" Phillip piped, ripping a snapping Catherine off his brother, "I bet ya she got sold t' some king and now serves him wine and gives his camel water!"

"That sounds like fun!" Lissie slid down from the window, landing with a thump on the beds. "I wanna give a camel water!"

"But then he whips ya if ya spill any!" Jack launched himself onto Lissie, pinning her screaming to the floor, "And then leaves ya to dry to a crisp in the sun!"

"Jack, how would you know? You've never even been to a desert country." Eugene grabbed his color, peeling him from the little girl. Lissie face turned bright pink, her eyes cast to the ground.

"T-thanks, Eugene." She stammered, fingering her dirty blonde hair. Eugene, however, had his attention turned toward Jack, who straitened his collar with his nose stuck in the air.

"I heard all about them from Kitterma."

"Kitterma, the batty fortune-teller man?" Eugene flopped back onto his mat, "Oh yes, how can we ever question somebody that has long conversations with his walking stick?"

"It's a window into the spiritual rear!"

"You mean spiritual realm?"

"Uh, yeah."

"The truth is, guys," Eugene sat up, looking over the orphans, "nobody knows if the princess is alive or not. It's just a mystery. So why don't we forget about it for the night and go to sleep?"

Reluctantly but obediently, the children straightened out their mats and cuddled into their blankets. Silence filled the room, the only sound some soft snoring. One by one, sleep conquered all of the orphans, all except for one; Eugene, lying back in his mat closest to the window, watched the floating lanterns dance through the night sky. They flew throughout the kingdom, fancy free, without a care in the world or a ball and chain to hold them back.

Could the princess really see them? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Ideas like that are for the mind of a dreamer like Lissie or Catherine, not an intelligent lad like himself. But…if the princess really was out there, did she know of her royal title? Was she like him, of noble blood but unable to live with the honor she was born with? Did it taunt her like it taunted him? Or was she clueless of her lineage, living like a normal girl, thinking she's a normal girl?

Eugene was not the type to pray. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he did. But that night, under the light of the lanterns and the cover of his own mind, he prayed. Please, he asked, that if the lost princess is still alive, may she be returned to her parents and her home.

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**TBC**

**Thanks for reading the first chapter! This will probably have around 4-6 chapters, depending on how it all works out. I have the plot already planned, but you never know. Please R&R, if you have the time (or patience).  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who reviewed my story, and extra thanks for correcting me on the name. It shall be Flannigan from now on. Sorry, I had only seen the movie once and couldn't find the exact name anywhere I looked. **

**And whoa, this is the longest chapter of a fic I've ever written!

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Nan cracked her aching fingers as she made her final trip to the orphans for the night. The flame in her hand danced along the otherwise pitch back halls of the main bedroom, chills running down her spine in the ghostly silence. She hated being alone; whenever she was, she would shiver and shake, glance over her shoulder constantly, and rush to the next room as fast as she could. She didn't know why, but she did, and it was times like those that living with a number of children was a bit of a relief.

Dripping hot wax and almost completely melted down, the candle flickered more faint light over the sleeping faces. The heels of her boots tapped on the scratched floor as, one by one, she glanced over the abandoned souls she cared for.

First Lissie, then Catherine, then Phillip and Jack (or was it Jack and Phillip?), all sleeping soundly, until finally, her candlelight passed onto Eugene, wide awake and stroking the rough cover of his book. His fingertips were brushing the black lettering of the title when she approached him.

"Do you want to hear the story tonight?" Nan asked, kneeling down next to him.

"You mean about my birth? Like the way you did when I was a kid?"

"It was two years ago, Eugene."

"Oh."

His face was growing quite well-chiseled: a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and though not completely devoid of childish pudge, almost. His voice had finally broken past its childhood as well, now sinking deeper than even her own, except for the occasional embarrassing crack. She no longer needed to look down to meet his eyes when he stood. Slowly, she was giving up on handing him any physical punishments out of fear that he was now stronger than she was (however, that only meant he did more dishes and mopped more floors than most children would only experience in their darkest nightmares).

He was still only twelve, though, and she was not ready to declare him as a young man just yet. By God, he was still her boy, and she intended to keep it that way.

"So, what do you say?" She sat down onto the cold wood, brushing a rebellious strand of smooth, chocolate hair from his face. "Want to revive an old tradition?"

"No thanks." Eugene buried the book under his blanket, wrapping his hands together. A tinge of disappointment bit her heart. As much as she got tired of telling it to him when he still wanted it, now that he didn't, she couldn't help but wish he did. "Nan, what am I going to do once I get out of this orphanage?"

"That's still a long way away, Eugene."

"Nan, no it's not. Most kids get out of here by the time they're fifteen and go get a job. I'm twelve."

Three more years, Nan thought in horror. Eugene was planning on leaving in only three years? Where had all these years gone? Where was the little boy she nursed from infancy?

"You have plenty of skills, Eugene. You can read, write, you're pretty strong…"

"Just like plenty of people in this kingdom. And they're still poor."

Nan opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. He didn't mean…? He wasn't still set on being rich, was he?

"Eugene…"

"I know. I'm never going to have a lot of money, at least in your eyes. I'm still going to try, though, no matter what the cost!" He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up at her. When he was younger, that would have looked cute. But now that he's almost grown, she found herself forced to take him seriously. "Everyone tells me, including you, that I just need to dream and believe in myself. And yet when I find a dream, suddenly there's no way it can come true!"

"I didn't say that." Nan sighed, fighting the tears that threatened to push their way out.

"You practically did, Nan."

"Just '_getting rich_' is _not _a life plan, Eugene," she hissed, doing her best not to snap and wake the others up. She could feel the anger bubbling up inside her, rising to a boil. Deep down, she knew he was right, if just a little. "You need a way to get there."

"I'll find a way. And I can do it without your help." With that, he flopped down onto his mat and pulled the blanket over his body, facing away from her. She almost reached out her hand to take his shoulder, but paused. There was no way he was going to listen to her. He was reaching his teenage years now, and it was bound to happen eventually.

He was serious about this, no question.

And something about that made Nan just a tad bit scared.

"Just don't do anything crazy, Eugene." She left him to sulk on his mat, her steps tapping away behind him.

* * *

Eugene awoke to a sharp elbow in his neck. Jack lay next to him, snoring with his mouth gaping open, a drip of drool trailing down to his pillow.

"Jack, would you mind not boring a hole into my throat?" Eugene shoved him away, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh, can't they _please _just expand the orphanage? I can't live like this anymore!"

"Pretty soon, I ain't gonna hafta." He blinked up to see Armond dancing over to him, holding something behind his back and flinging water along the floor with ever step. An enormous grin was plastered on his face. "Betcha can't guess what I got!"

"Do I care?"

"Oh, I bet ya will!" Armond flipped his hair, splattering water into Eugene's face. He slowly opened his hands before shooting them into the air to show the orphans what was inside.

Cupped in his fist was a clump of gleaming golden jewelry, dripping with diamonds, rubies and some jewels Eugene couldn't even identify. The chains tangled together in a sparkling bundle, held aloft in Armond's muddy paws. They seemed vastly out of place in the dreary grey atmosphere of the orphanage.

"_Wow…_where did you _get _those?" Lissie stared up at the gold with stars in her eyes. She hadn't seen something so shining and bright in her life, at least not closer than the orphanage window.

"Oh, wouldn't ya like to know." Armond stuffed them in his pants pocket, turning away from her. "I bet you would too, Fitzherbert."

Eugene couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Actually, no. I couldn't care less." He sat back, dug out his book, and started to read, eyes never looking back up to Armond.

3…

2…

1…

"Well, I'm gonna tell ya anyway!...Just so ya, um, don't go crazy wonderin'."

"Oh gee, how unexpectedly nice of you."

"Well don't get used to it!" Armond plopped himself into the middle of the floor as the orphans circled around him. "Last night, after the old hag left —"

"Don't call Nanna a hag!" Lissie protested, crossing her skinny arms.

"Shut up, or I won't tell ya at all!"

"Sure you won't." Eugene flipped another page, still not looking up. Armond growled in his direction, but continued.

"And then when crybaby Eugene went to sleep, I snuck out!" A shocked gasp chorused through the orphans. Armond smirked, drinking in their engrossment more than he would have ever shown. The children listened with the rapt attention they always gave to Fitzherbert's sissy "Rider," and now, they were all his.

"I walked the streets, alone, at night, in the cold, thunderin' rain—"

"Gosh, I do pray that someday I can be as smart as you!"

"_Shut yer trap, Fitzherbert!_ Anyway, then, this upper-city rich guy was walkin' around lost! And I mean _rich. _Like, shiny red shirt all covered with fur and velvet!"

"Ohh…" Catherine and Lissie sighed, closing their eyes and gripping their hands together.

"He had a bag around his shoulder, I knew that bag would 'ave something worthwhile inside! So, quick as a wink, I ran up from behind and snatched it right offa his arm!"

This time, Eugene did stare right at him, mouth hanging open and book forgotten at his side. "You didn't." He was too shocked (and yet, at the same time, not at all) to think of a sarcastic comment or pretend he didn't care.

"No!" Lissie leapt to her feet, "That's stealing! You can't steal!"

"'Course I can." Armond lay back on his mat, as if he was a king surrounded by lowly servants. "The fat ol' geezer couldn't keep up with me, and he didn't never see my face. So these," he shook the necklaces in Lissie's face, "are mine now."

Lissie clamped her fists, stamping her foot. "No they are not! I'm tellin' Nanna!" She spun on her heels and began to race towards the door, but Armond yelped, diving from his bed. He yanked her shoulders toward him, spinning her around to meet his face.

"Don't tell Nan!" he gasped, his eyes shaky with fear and almost looking like they were about to cry, "If I get caught, I could go to jail! O-or maybe even get hanged!"

"B-but—" Lissie stuttered, barely able to regulate her fast breathing, let alone speak.

"Please, don't make me get hanged, Lissie!" Armond then let the tears fall in rapid fire, mixing with the rainwater running down his cheeks. Lissie gave a little squeak, hanging her head.

"I won't tell no one," she whispered.

"Good. Now!..." Armond strutted back to his mat, head high in the air and hands crossed tightly behind his back, as if he had not just started to cry in front of an eight year old girl. "If I can continue…"

"No." Eugene stood, arms crossed. Armond raised his eye brows, saunting over to his rival with short, slow steps.

"_What_ did you just say?"

"There are little kids here, Armond, and I don't want you messing them up. We don't need more of you, God only knows."

"Really?" Armond circled him, his nose stuck in the air, "Who put you in charge? 'Cause I'mma thinkin' the person who can actually get us all out of this dump should run this joint."

"I'm in charge because you could never beat me in a fight despite being two years older," Eugene said, staring strait ahead, "I believe that's a good reason."

"I'd beat ya if your little hag didn't jump in and save ya whenever—"

"Armond, this little hag has half a mind to not allow you Outside Day today." Nan, arms crossed and eyebrow up in the air, leaned on the frame of the door. Her hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a bun, secured by a faded bandana. Her striped cotton dress hung off her body like a sack, but even still, it was less wrinkled than her clothes usually were.

"Today is Outside Day! ?" Mary skipped across the room to tug at Nan's skirt, hopping up and down with a bright grin on her face.

"Yes, little one. Today is Outside Day, so you must all get cleaned up and the young children must find their buddies to walk with!"

In a second, the room fell into rushed clamor. The girls combed their hair with their fingers and rubbed out the stains peppering their dresses with spit as the boys pushed and shoved over the few small coins found in the hay of one of the mats. After several minutes, the children deemed themselves ready and scrambled to reach the line first. Nan lead them through the doors of the orphanage, past the pearly gates (that happened to look like cracked, rotting wood) into the bright sunlight of the world.

Eugene couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. All those days, looking through a window to catch even a glimpse of the outside world, and here he was, right in the middle of it, free to spend the day as he desired.

The air, still damp from the last night's storm, carried the rotted smells of manure and heavy smoke along the breeze. The buildings in this part of the city smashed together in an endless chain, any alley ways a breeding ground for slit throats and cut purse strings. Each step smothered your foot in a puddle of mud, but the orphans didn't care. This was outside, this was the land beyond their room!

Suddenly, Eugene felt soft skin brush against his hand. He glanced down to see Lissie, rocking on her heels beside him.

"H-hi Eugen..." she stuttered, her face brushed with soft pink.

"Hello, Lissie," he said. Lissie giggled.

"Have you ever been past the Crossover Street?" She finally dared to look up at him, eyes full of hope.

"Me? Course not." The Crossover Street was a forbidden corner at the end of the lower kingdom, marking the beginning of the larger upper-kingdom. Any child (especially an orphan) knew that, though not technically prohibited, to cross that corner into the world of security, beauty and most of all, money, was just not something you did.

"Oh." Lissie stared at the ground again, rubbing the toes of her boots together, "I was just hoping you could tell me what it was like." She was gone again in a moment, long hair bumping on her back as she ran away.

What it was like past the Crossover Street.

Huh.

The very idea was silly. You didn't go past the Crossover Street. Not ever. But it couldn't be so bad on the pretty side of the kingdom. It was supposed to be pleasant, right?

And how was he supposed to be rich if he had never even seen the rich side?

As if with a mind of their own, his legs brought him slowly down the hustling streets, past the barking dogs, shouted curses and women in low-cut dresses grinning at passing men in the corners. Past the beggars, mystery meat and snarling men with no teeth. Past everything he'd ever known, and everything he always wanted to leave.

And finally, the corner was in sight, smooth cobblestone gradually growing thicker as the path went on, houses getting bigger and air easier to breathe through your nose.

His steps stopped. Here was the moment his life could change.

He could already see, just from standing on the other side, that the stone-lined homes, polished and clean, were like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Did he dare make this last plunge? Did he want to?

Yes. Of course he did.

Taking a deep breath, he made the last final leap into the upper-kingdom.

And then, he knew he could never go back.

Colors filled the sky. Purples, pinks, blues and reds, all hung from the rafters, covered in the emblem of the swirling sun, decorating every square inch. The people, smiling and laughing, strolled through life as if there was no struggle to get by, no risk involved with every step. There was pure, unadulterated joy, and Eugene drank every last drop of it with a smile on his face.

But even if he felt just at home here, he did not look it. He was still stained with muck from head to toe; still in ripped pants and a wrinkled shirt. His hair was still wild and uncombed. He was still, after all, an orphan.

"A little out of place, aren't you kid?" Eugene turned to meet a man dressed in nothing but thick metal armor, a kingdom emblem on his chest. In his hand was a sharply bladed spear, even taller than Eugene.

"Aren't we all, in life?" Eugene raised his eyebrows, staring up at the man with mock bewilderment.

The man only growled, "A bit of a smart alec, aren't you?"

"I've been told that, yes."

He stepped closer, gripping the spear tighter. "I don't like your tone, son. Now I want you to apologize to me, and then go crawl back into the little sewer you came from like the trash that you are."

Eugene gasped, and then growled.

What did that man just call him?

He gritted his teeth, balling up his fists, "I am _not _trash."

The man raised his hand, and before Eugene could think to dodge, hit him hard across the face. The metal on his arm bashed against his cheek bone, sending numbing pain surging though his face. "Now tell me that you are the lowest form and trash and beg for me to _please _give mercy on your pathetic little soul."

Eugene gripped his stinging cheek, "_No._" He glared up, eyes dark and narrow.

The soldier's face grew hot red, "Say it, or I'll _drag _you back."

"NO!"

People were stopping and staring now, but none stepped forward to help. Immediately, the soldier grabbed Eugene's shoulders and threw him to the ground, following with a quick kick with the tip of his steel toe. Eugene could almost taste the cobblestone as he fell, the hard boot knocking the wind out of him for a few moments, leaving him gasping for breath.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?" the man snapped, holding up his spear above his head as if to hit him with the wooden bar. Then, a thought crossed his mind, and he lowered it with a smirk, "Or are you one of those riff-raffs from the orphanage?"

Eugene squinted his eyes, trying to resist the anger churning up inside him. _Do not loose control…do not loose control…_

But one last zap of pain from his kicked chest snapped whatever was holding him back, and the dam broke, releasing everything he'd been wanting to say for the last twelve years crashing out of his mouth.

"I am _not _riff raff. I am _not _trash. I am the son of the great knight Sir Herbert!" His voice rose to a shout, his face slowly turning up to the soldier, "AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TREAT ME LIKE THIS! _NO ONE _HAS THE RIGHT TO TREAT ME LIKE THIS!"

At first, silence. The entire square of people had turned toward him, some with looks of shock, others with disbelief, others with amusement. Then, the soldier let out a roaring laugh, almost falling over backwards as he threw back his head. The subjects took on his example, laughter filling the street.

"Y-you? The son of Sir Herbert? Preposterous!"

"Its true! My mother was his maidservant!"

"Sure, kid, sure." The man wrenched him from the ground by his collar and dragged him through the streets, strait back to the Crossover Street. The joy and colors and light disappeared, replaced again by dirt and grime and struggle. Eugene threw out his hands, wishing that if he just reached far enough, he could grab them back, but even he knew the very idea was silly. The soldier tossed him stumbling across the corner, turning on his heels and walking away.

"And stay out!" With that, he was gone, lost with the rest of the upper-kingdom.

Eugene stood there without words for a few moments, staring down at the now-dirt road. He was just utterly, horribly humiliated. In front of an entire square of people. And now he was left back at—he had to face it—the sewer, like a piece of trash.

He collapsed to the ground in a fit of sobs, barely able to breathe. His arms tightly held his knees as he balled up right on the side of the bridge. This wasn't fair! Why couldn't anything ever be fair? The tears stung his eyes as he cried, ignoring the snickers from passing peasants.

"Eugene?" His face broke away from his bundle to look up, only to see Catherine blinking down at him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, just peachy!" Eugene threw out his hands with a sarcastic smile.

Faster than he could tell her not to, Catherine sat herself beside him, trying to wrap her arm around his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"NO!" Eugene shoved himself off the ground, leaving her sitting, "I'm not Lissie or Mary, Catherine, you can't baby me like this!"

She looked at him for a short while, silent. Then she nodded, wringing her hands, "Let's just get you back to Nan, then."

Sighing, he relaxed, his shoulders dropping. "O-ok, I think I can handle that."

As they walked away, Catherine placed her arm around his shoulders. This time, he let her.

* * *

A month passed. Eugene did his best to forget about the whole ordeal, distracting himself with chores, reading, and the few other things one could do trapped away in the orphanage. He never did tell Nan what had happened, and though sometimes she gave him a quizzical glance whenever he took extra dishes without any complaints, she didn't inquire further.

Then, one day, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Nan groaned, placing the one-year-old she was holding back in the crib. Wrapping a thin wool shawl around her shoulders, she opened the door.

There stood a tall, bearded man in a green velvet tunic, standing alert with his hands behind his back. Golden threads on his chest formed a bobcat, head bent down below a spinning sun— the crest of the house of Sir Herbert.

Nan felt the urge to slam the door, but all of her willpower bid her not to. "May I help you?"

"According to many sources," the messenger started, eyes squinting down at her with disdain as if she wasn't worthy of the honor, "Eugene Fitzherbert claimed in the upper-kingdom market about a month ago—"

"Eugene was in the upper-town market! ?" she gasped. The messenger pressed his thin lips together, crinkling his nose,

"Yes, now allow me to continue…m'am. He claimed that he was the illegitimate son of the late Sir Herbert."

"Which he _is_. And your house knows he exists. Your own Lady Anne turned his mother away."

"Dear Lady Anne has now died."

"Good riddance."

"You watch your tongue, m'am!" the man snapped, his hand twitching like he wanted to strike her, but in a second, his composure returned, "Anyway, let it be known that Sir Herbert's legitimate son, Sir Anthony, now in charge of the estate, does not wish his father's good name to be soiled."

Nan gritted her teeth, stepping forward out the door. "Maybe he should have thought of that before Herbert _fathered _the boy."

"Let it known that if your boy soils Sir Herbert's name further, the estate _will _have him thrown out of the city."

Nan's jaw dropped. No. They can't do this! Not to her Eugene, not to _anyone. _Not when they've done nothing wrong! She'll fight this. She'll fight this until every bone in her body is ground to dust! "You listen here, mister—"

"Sir Anthony runs a large, powerful estate, m'am. Far more powerful than you, your boy, and your tiny speck of an orphanage. In fact, he can do a lot more than have the boy banished. Let this linger in your thoughts. Good day, m'am," the man walked away, dancing through the streets in an effort to avoid the completely unavoidable mud puddles.

Nan stood in her place, breathing hard. Her hands trembled, reaching up to cup her face as she stepped back into the orphanage. The children peeked out their doors as she slowly followed the short hallway, failing to fight her tears.

She found him sitting at his bed, reading as always. When he saw her motion for him to come over, his face fell into a worried frown.

Nan lead him to her room without a word.

When the door was shut tight and she had sat him down on the bed in front of her, she finally spoke. "Eugene," she said, choking on the words, "You can _never, ever _reveal your lineage _ever _again."

His eyes widened. How did she find out about that? "I—"

"I know what you did in the marketplace. Eugene…" She kneeled down, taking his hands, "Your father's estate will have you banished if you tell any more people."

Eugene's eyes watered with angry tears, his muscles tensing. She tried to place a hand on his cheek, but he slapped it away, leaping from his place on the bed, "No! How can they do this! ?"

"Your father owned a powerful house, Eugene, and it's now owned by his son, Sir Anthony. Sir Anthony can do with his power as he pleases."

"_No!" _the boy paced back and forth, hands flying from his face to his sides, "What's the point of having my name if no one can know what it means? Why does stupid Sir Anthony get to do whatever he wants?"

"Your name is a sign of your noble birth, my dear."

"Then I hate it!" he shouted, spinning to meet her with his face a furious red.

"Don't say that!" Nan gripped his arms, pulling him in front of her, "Your name is an honor, even if no one can know. Your personal pride is more important and more valuable than anything anyone else says." She gazed deeply in his eyes, something that always made Eugene feel she could look right through him (and in a way, she most definitely could). "There are people who have everything in the world, but see themselves as ugly or boring or worthless. In other words, their lives are still miserable because they have no esteem of themselves. Low personal pride is a poison, Eugene, and as long as you aren't affected, you can live a happy life. As long as you know who you are, it doesn't matter what they call you."

He wanted to believe her. He really did. He knew he was lucky; the other kids in the orphanage, like Catherine or Armond, couldn't even remember their parents. Lissie's father was a drunk and her mother…well, she didn't have the most honorable profession in the world, to say the least. Phillip and Jack were orphaned at age five when their parents were killed in a terrible fire. But him…his father was a noble knight with a noble death, and he had the name to prove it. But yet, he couldn't help but resent his state in life.

Nan's hands left his arms, and she gave him a little nudge in the back.

"Run along, now," she said.

As he trailed back into his room, his mind lingered on her words. _She's right, isn't she? As long as we believe in ourselves…darn it, I'm starting to sound like Catherine. _

He curled up on his mat, resting his chin on his knees and frowning. _Can I be happy just like this? Without a penny to my name, or any belonging other than a ratty old book, or a meal more than gruel?_

The answer, honest and brutal, hung in his mind: No. He was not going to be happy.

He needed money, and he needed a way to get it.

"Eugene, did you hear?" Lissie leaped to his side, grapping his arm, "Armond ran away!"

"What?" he gasped.

"Uh-huh! Jack said he was gonna go join a pick-pocket group!" Shaking her head, she flounced away, "The things people would do…"

Armond got out.

He got out to start stealing.

Is that the only way for kids like him to get rich? To take things that aren't theirs?

The thought rang in his mind, hugging at his chest. Stealing. Eugene had stolen before, and got his beloved book out of it. Kings get money from taxes, which are stealing, in a way. There are some in this city who don't deserve the money they have. Could he take that money back?

It was a solution, no denying that. But he wasn't sure if it was a solution he was ready to accept yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**AHH. I restarted my computer foolishly thinking this file had been saved, and I lost most of the writing. That's why this chapter is late, sorry.

* * *

**"MOMMA!"

"Ah, Henry, ya little shrimp!"

"Whatsa gotta be so whiny for?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm just scared!" Henry huddled into his knees, only his fox-colored hair poking out the top. "It's just…its hailin' outside and most nights like this I has my momma here to help me!"

Eugene groaned, not opening his eyes. Jack's elbow hung onto his mat, his knee almost jutting into his side. It wasn't like he could really help it, though; the mats were so squished and crumpled together, only the oldest kids had any room at all (and what they had, they had to fight for). The youngest were almost heaped in a pile on the other side of the room.

"A-and when I close my eyes…" Catherine rushed over to Henry, cooing as she wrapped her arms around the youngest boy. He buried his face into her neck, engulfed in her long hair. "I-I see her and Papa in their beds with the Mer…Mer…"

"Merolia?"

"Yeah, that. And they's all pale…and coughin'…and then they's got the blood on their mouth and then— and then our neighbors got it, and then the next house after them…and…"

"Shhh…" Catherine pet his hair, hugging him closer. "Don't think about that. It's okay, I got you…"

"Stop babyin' 'im." Jack picked at his back teeth, flicking whatever he had discovered in there at the back of Lissie's head. "He needs to man up, like the rest of us."

"He's only four!" Catherine spat in Jack's direction. He only snorted.

"I agree with Jack." Robert, a new boy about ten, snapped, poking his head out from his blanket. "I can't get no sleep with him whining like a piglet!"

"I wish that kid never came here in the first place." Jack tugged his blanket back over his body, not saying another word.

"Y-you do?" Henry's eyes watered, his face shrinking back.

"Don't worry." Robert sneered, flipping over onto his back and crossing his legs in the air. "Jack just hates yer guts 'cause you sleep where Phillip used to."

"Oh." Henry leaned against Catherine's shoulder, his voice barely above his sporadic breathing, "S-sorry."

"Ya know Henry," Robert smirked, crawling closer to the terrified boy with his hands bent as if they were beast-like claws, "Phillip was sick on that bed…his germs could be _all _over it…you could get sick too…"

"NO!" Henry wailed, his legs flying though the air in all directions. His heel swung back, accidentally jamming Catherine right in the mouth as he sprang off the mat. "I DON'T WANNA GET SICK! I DON'T WANNA GET SICK!"

"HEY!" Catherine grabbed her lip, a deep split dripping blood all over her fingers.

"Actually," Eugene sighed, groggily pushing himself off the floor, "They burned Phillip's mat after he died and then replaced it. So no, unless those germs can jump space and time itself, to which I must say, wow, brava!, that bed will be Merolia free."

"…huh?" Henry cocked his head.

"It's clean. No Phillip germs for you."

"Oh, yay!" the tiniest orphan dropped back down onto the bed with a joyful grin on his face.

"Oh, good, Daddy Eugene flew in to save the day." Robert folded his hands, raising them to his cheek and fluttering his eyelids, "And with Catherine actin' like a crybaby mommy, maybe you guys should just get married!"

Eugene yawned, throwing his fists into the air, "No thanks, the last thing I want is for my offspring to be crybaby mommies. Not to mention redheads."

"_What did you just say?" _

"Oh, nothing, Cat."

Henry cuddled into his mat, quietly sucking his thumb. His eyes closed in sleep once again. Catherine, still holding her bleeding lip, returned to her own bed next to Lissie, who, bright eyed and awake, rocked back and forth on her knees.

"I wonder what's gonna happen if another kid gets Merolia in here!"

"Can we stop talking about the disease?" Another new orphan moaned. He was a boy just before his teenage years, blonde hair still neatly cut and face relatively clean (of course, this would change in a few weeks). "A lot of us already kinda saw it, and pretty up-close."

"Oh…sorry."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Eugene crossed his arms behind his head, looking up at the low ceiling of the main bedroom. The hail clattered against the wood, drowning out any other sounds from the outside. Hail was rare in the kingdom, but unfortunately not unheard of. Someone somewhere was having their roof destroyed by ice tonight, he knew it.

Henry let out a small sob in his sleep, but this time no one went to comfort him. Even Catherine (who, at fourteen, now helped Nan with the younger children far more than she actually acted like an orphan herself) simple groaned and turned over.

He had to pity the kid, though, as annoying as he was. Merolia had been sweeping though the lower classes of the city like…well, a plague, and filling graves with the poor.

It starts with a slight fever, almost unnoticeable at first. Then, after a week, the person collapses, barely able to move. The fevers skyrocket, followed by coughing fits, blood, hallucinations, and then a slow, painful death. There was a cure, but it consisted of highly expensive herbs from the East that needed to be mixed _just right. _No one in the lower city could afford such a cure, and instead could only await the inevitable.

And many of these new orphan's parents had.

He closed his eyes, letting the pitter patter of the hail muddle into the background as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"AHH!" Lissie's legs flew out from under her as she toppled onto the ground, landing right on her bottom with a thump. "Oww…" She blinked her eyes to see Eugene smirking back at her, scrub brush in hand.

"Smooth," he said, continuing to scrub the floors.

Lissie's felt her cheeks flush pink. Why did she always have to look like a fool in front of _him_? Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to hide beside Catherine.

"Don't worry Lissie," Catherine reached forward to braid Lissie's tangled hair, "I almost fell too."

"You was probably weighed down by those apples growin' on yer chest!" Robert sneered, lying back on his elbows. Catherine leapt to her feet at once, almost knocking Lissie over, and marched over to his mat with every step making a loud tap on the wood.

"_What_ did you just say to me?" she snarled, bending over him with her fists on her hips.

"Ah, that's a good view of 'em." Robert grinned up at her, eyebrows wiggling, "They's more the size of small melons, really."

Catharine's hand snapped forward, gripping his scalp and yanking him bellowing to her level, "_Shut up, you filthy little creature!"_

"Really Robert, you should know not to call attention to them," Eugene dipped his brush in the pail, sloshing browned water over the floor, "then you can stare all you want like the rest of us."

Catherine stomped back to him with her mouth open as if to say something, but the bedroom door opened before she could.

"Don't worry Catherine, if they stare, it's a good sign," Nan stepped into the room, placing a hand on the little brown head of hair hiding behind her skirt, "Children, we have a new face!"

"Ugh, not another one!"

"We ain't got no room!"

"Where's it gonna sleep? 'Cause it ain't here!"

"Now children," Nan led the girl to the front of the room, "This is Jane. I want you to make her feel welcome. Catherine, will you show her to her bed?"

"Of course!" Catherine took the girl's hand, leading her to the mat, "Here, Jane, this is where you'll sleep, right next to Mary!"

"Hiya!" Mary piped. Jane, eyes swollen red and a slick trail leading from her nose, snuggled into the blanket, sucking her thumb. The other orphans followed, wrapping their blankets over their shivering bodies.

"Nan, can I help you put the babies to bed tonight?" Catherine asked, crossing her arms behind her back.

"Yes, you may." Nan led her out of the room, closing the door again. Eugene scrubbed the last inch of the floor, wiped up the water, and sat up strait, his aching back cracking with every movement.

"Ugh…" he moaned as he flopped onto his mat, finally drifting off to sleep.

"Eugene! Eugene! Wake up!" a pair of hands violently shook him awake. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a covered face looming over him. "Eugene! It's Catherine! You have to wake up!"

"Uh, no." he turned over, ignoring her shakes, "maybe later."

"_Please, please_ wake up!" she wasn't asking now—she was begging him. She grabbed his hand, trying to pull him out of bed, "Please please please!"

"Ok, ok…" he stumbled to his feet, and before he could start walking, she was tugging him down the hallway, breathing rapidly and whimpering. It was just then he noticed the tears streaming down her face.

"...andthenshelookedkindaflushed…andaskedherwhatwaswrong…andshesaidshefelthot…butitsreallycoldoutside…andthenshejust…"

Flinching, Catherine pushed open Nan's bedroom door. Eugene's jaw dropped, his breath escaping his lips in one swift huff.

There lay Nan in her bed, chest heaving and body laced with sweat. Her eyes were squeezed painfully shut, and her entire body shook, fingers gripping the thin sheets.

"…collapsed." Catherine sobbed, smothering her face in her hands.

"Merolia," Eugene whispered, not daring to step into the room. Catherine gave a single nod.

Nan had Merolia.

She was going to die.

* * *

"I can't believe it!" Lissie cried, burying her face in her knees, "Nanna's gonna die!"

"We don't _know _that," Catherine said, holding Mary, Jane, and Henry in her arms, barely able to sit upright.

"Don't lie to them, Cat."

"Eugene!"

"Of course she will." Eugene stood, walking into the middle of the circle of orphans in the main bedroom, "if she's going to get better, she needs a doctor. Unless you have a damn big load of cash you never showed us, Catherine, then she _is _going to die."

"Wait!" Lissie leapt from the ground, a smile breaking though her tears, "I know! One time, I went with Nan on an errand, and she stopped by at a friend's house, who's a doctor!"

"Lissie," Eugene fell to his knees, gripping her shoulders with his nose almost touching hers, "where is this man?"

"Heh…he's…uh…" Lissie's mouth hung open, her eyes wide.

"Move back, Eugene," Catherine whispered.

He did, rolling his eyes. "Where, Lissie?"

"Near the Crossover Street," she finally said, before rushing back to her seat.

"I'll go find him." Eugene said, the orphans staring up at him with hopeful and respectful eyes, "And I'll get him to help Nan."

Cheers filled the room. Eugene grinned, finally feeling somewhat like a hero…but as he glanced over to Catherine, cooing the children wrapped in his arms, he began to wonder. Was he a hero to these kids, or a father?

He hoped it was the former.

* * *

The man was the only doctor in the lower kingdom. His home, though still made of wood like the rest of them, was smoother and better kept, with actual glass in the windowpanes and shingles on the roof. It was about a block down from the Crossover Street, just long enough for Eugene not to feel the tinge of humiliation from the past year creep back into his mind.

He climbed up the front steps, knocking on the door.

A grey-haired man opened it just a crack, his icy blue eye peering though, "Who goes there?"

"Just me. I'm from the orphanage."

"Ah." The man opened the door wider, allowing Eugene in. His brown linen shirt was spotted with colored smudges, a few with a suspicious dark-red color, "You are one of Angelica's kids?"

"Angelica?"

"Oh, I forgot, you kids call her Nanna." The man chuckled, leading Eugene into a room with a few wooden chairs set around an old table, "My name is Dr. Frederickson. Do you want some tea?"

"No, thanks." Eugene sat down next to him, sighing, "this is actually an important visit. Nan has Merolia."

"Oh." The man stared down at the table, crossing his fingers, "I see."

"I need you to cure her."

"I can do it. "

"Great!"

"For 80 coins."

Eugene gaped at him for a moment, barely able to breathe. After a few silent moments, he was finally able to squeak out a single word.

"What?"

"These are hard times, boy, and I'm too busy to work for free. Even for an old friend." The man poured himself some tea, ignoring Eugene's gawking face.

"But…but how?" Eugene breathed out.

Dr. Frederickson sighed, setting down his teacup. "How old are you, boy?"

"Thirteen," he said, "But I don't know what that has to do with—"

"Young man, allow me to show you something." The doctor stood, taking Eugene's shoulder and leading him down the hall. His hand paused at a heavy oak door at the very end, and his ghostly eyes gazed into Eugene's own.

"I want you to be prepared for what you will see."

"I think I am, sir."

The door opened.

Inside were stacks and stacks of thin bunk beds, each one holding a groaning man, woman, or child in a fit of coughs, or sleeping soundly, or wiping a spot of blood off their mouths, but most were simply groaning in pain. A spicy smell of sweat and rusted metal wafted though the air, stinging Eugene's nose with the unpleasant scent. Many were begging the nurses in gasping voices for water or painkillers. One tiny girl, no more than four, cried out about the vipers crawling up her bedpost and trying to bite her, her face white in terror.

Eugene shut his eyes tight, but the image still flashed in the darkness. He could still hear the groaning and gasping, still hear the little girl's horrified screams and the group of nurses shushing her. He could smell the dried blood and the burning ashes from outside, all that was left those who did not get cured fast enough.

"All of these people need my care just as much as Angelica does, and they can afford it."

Eugene opened his eyes again, looking into the room and saying nothing.

"It's a brutal world out there, young man. You can't make exceptions when there is this much at stake. In the end, you need to eat or be eaten. Do you understand now?"

Eugene nodded softly, "Yes. Yes I do."

"Run along now. Tell Angelica that she's in my prayers."

"Load of good those will do," Eugene left him, walking down the hallway.

The street was collecting small drifts of snow when he stepped out. Eugene dug his hands into his pockets and dragged his feet down the road, barely aware of what he was doing. One tiny flame of hope that Nan might live, and it was snuffed out like it was nothing.

It was then he realized he was going the wrong way; he was at the Crossover Street! He was about to turn back when, though the corner of his eye, he spied a richly dressed man standing by an upper-kingdom jewelry stand.

"Wee ho, this is a magnificent diamond!" The man pointed his spectacle at a shimmering crystal, about the size of an almond.

"Thank you sir, I hope to sell for riches to help give my daughter a good dowry. She's at that age, you know," the store keeper said, not-to-subtly lifting his eyebrows.

"Oh, in that case," the rich man dug out a heavy bag of coins, deliciously jingling in the silk pouch, "Here. Get your daughter a good man!"

Eugene's heart raced. A perfectly good bag of money, money that could be used to get Nan the cure she needed, was going to be thrown away, wasted, for a girl's dowry? He could barely believe it. That money—it could be the key to her survival. Who cares if some girl can get a rich enough sucker to marry her?

His fingers twitched, a strange itch coming over them—he wanted that bag.

"Why thank you, sir!" the man cradled the coins in his hand, until a sharp, nasally voice cried out behind him.

"Roger, come help me measure this ruby!"

"Yes, Lydia!" He placed the bag on the table, turning away and disappearing into the stand.

Eugene's mind reeled. Wasn't stealing wrong? But he needed to save Nan! Was he going to get caught? Not if he just slipped in and slipped out…

His senses racing, his hands trembling, his thoughts battling within his brain, he rushed forward and swiped the bag right off the counter.

And then it was over.

He pounded through the streets, clutching the bag for dear life in his paled knuckles. No one paid him any attention as he ran; only indifferently stepping out of his way. His breaths heaved and his fingers still shook as he hopped up the steps of Dr. Frederickson's home.

He rammed on the door, switching from foot to foot until the doctor opened it.

"What are you doing back here so soon?" he asked, glancing down, "Is…is that…"

"Money. Here." Eugene held the bag up, and the man took it. "It has to be enough."

"It sure looks like it." The doctor opened the top, gasping, "This has to be at least one hundred coins! Where did you get this?"

"Why does it matter?" Eugene said, "Like you said, we need to eat or be eaten. And I'm eating."

Frederickson stared at him few moments, considering the boy's words. Huffing, he stuffed the bag into his pocket. "Very well. I will work on Angelica."

* * *

They had gotten help just in time. Nan was still in the early ages of the disease, and Dr. Frederickson was able to cure her in two weeks. She was already sitting up and talking well when he decided to leave for the last time.

"She still needs plenty of rest," he said, packing up his supplies, "but soon she will be good as new. Goodbye, children."

"Goodbye, Dr. Frederickson!" They sang, before rushing past him to meet at Nan's side, pushing and shoving to get a place in the tiny bedroom.

"Thank you for all your excellent care, my children," she said, sipping at some warm broth Catherine had been given after cleaning another woman's house for a week.

"We just want you to get better, Nanna," Lissie said, folding her hands.

"I'll tell you what," Nan put down her broth, a grin on her face, "As soon as I have the energy to get out of bed, I'll take you all to the Christmas festival in the square!"

"The upper kingdom?" Catherine gasped, glancing slightly at Eugene, the boy rolling his eyes, "Aren't we…not really supposed to go there?"

"Damn those social barriers!" Nan exclaimed, punching her fist into the air, "I'm taking you to the festival if it kills me!"

The orphans rejoiced, cheers and hoots and high-fives clamoring through the hallways. Lissie and Henry danced through the room, frolicking and laughing until they bumped right into Robert, sending the entire group down into a giggling heap. In the distance, the church bells rang through the clear black night. Eugene stood by the door, watching the moment with a smile on his face.

This wasn't exactly a negative consequence for his thievery. Heck, how could they give you one if you didn't get caught? They can't; you'll be gone free. He knew he should feel guilty, but he didn't. Not at all, no way, not ever. Not for this.

* * *

Snow swirled in the wind as the orphans skipped through the streets of the lower kingdom, lined up behind Nan. The stars glittered in the dark night above them, and the crisp snow crunched under their tattered boots. The army of children broke through the Crossover Street, most clapping and hopping with excitement over finally leaving their filthy neighborhood. Just for one night, they got to be normal children!

The square opened up to them, lantern lights gleaming against the snow and holly hung from every rafter. Bells chimed and violins strung as the townspeople danced together, twirling and circling around each other along to the music, leaping into the air with cries of happiness.

Eugene had never seen anything more magical in his life.

Catherine, her blazing hair sprinkled with snowflakes, was the first to dive into the dance. Taking her place among the women, her skipping feet flew through the crowd and stepped just in time with the music, the grin on her face growing with every note.

Before he knew it, Catherine had run up him and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the dance.

"Come on!" she exclaimed, and his hand wrapped around her waist as they bounced along with the rhythm, laughing and hooting with the rest of the dancers. He spun her in his hand, casting down the line to meet her on the other end. They joined hands again, switching sides, and clapping with the beat as another couple pranced down.

Then, the violinist played the last note, and the dancers roared with applause as they said goodbye to their partner. Eugene turned to Catherine, about to give a joking bow, when she did the most unexpected thing.

She kissed him.

It was over almost as soon as it began, but it remained to tingle on his lips. She gasped slightly, covering her mouth. He gaped at her, wide eyed, and she was gone in a flash, leaving a deep trail of footprints in the snow as she ran off.

Eugene stood alone in the square, jaw still on the ground. Of all the people in the world to give him his first kiss, _Catherine?_ She acted like their mother all the time, who knew she could think of any of the boys romantically?

Did he like it? He wasn't sure. It's not like he brought it on. Or did he? No, he didn't! He was just dancing with her as a friend! But did _she _know that?

Shaking his head, he left the dancing, the kiss relentlessly replaying in his mind. He forced it back, though, and focused on the people at the festival as they wove in and out, blissfully unaware of their surroundings. Eugene's hand brushed against the woven wood of a small bread cart, the owner's back turned. Like clockwork, a warm bun was in his hand and he was lost in the crowd, cart out of sight and himself out of danger of being caught. He took a deep bite, the sugar sticking to his lips.

Hey, he was an orphan, and he was hungry. That baker probably gets a hot, substantial meal every day, and he only gets gruel. He deserves this.

Right?

Eugene licked the last of the bun's glaze off his fingers, his stomach now begging for more.

As he leaned against the stone wall of an upper-kingdom home, a certain redhead finally approached him, hands gripped tightly behind her back.

"Uh…Eugene, about what happened…"

"When you randomly planted one on me? Or another crazy, insane, totally out of line thing you did in the last five minutes?"

"I could use without your sarcasm right now, Eugene," Catherine snapped, her fists planting on her hips yet again.

"Hey, I just don't think of you that way."

"Well neither do I!" she crossed her arms defensibly.

"Ok, then."

Catherine started to relax, but paused. She sniffed the air, her nose scrunching up, "Why does your breath smell like cinnamon?"

"I've been chewing on a wreath."

"Eugene!" she gasped, hitting his arm with a swift slap, "did you steal something?"

"What if I did?" He finally turned to look at her shocked face.

"Then I'm going to tell Nan!" she was just about to spin around when he grabbed her arm, tugging her back in front of him. He was about to beg her not to like Armond did Lissie, but stopped, thinking for a moment. If Catherine knew the urgency such a threat gave him, it might just motivate her more.

Instead, he gave a mocking pout, lips slightly pushed out and shining amber eyes looking up at her with upturned eyebrows. "Hey, don't," he said.

Catherine breathed in and out; closing her eyes and opening them back up. "O-okay. A-as long as…you don't do it again." She didn't giggle like he thought she was going to, but hey, he didn't mind.

"Of course," he lied.

Slowly, she walked away.

Eugene turned back to see Jack holding back a large laugh.

"Oh my God, that was great!" he snickered, punching Eugene in the arm.

"What? She was just helping a friend."

Jack leaned in closer, an amused smirk still on his face, "No, that wasn't helpin' a friend. That was helpin' the guy she just locked lips with."

Eugene chuckled, "Seriously?"

"Face it, ya ain't exactly a bad looking guy. If you could get all girls to drool over you like she was just doin' then, you could rule the _world._"

"I wouldn't mind that too much," Eugene laughed out loud, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on the wall behind him, the cocky smile never leaving his face.

_I think this is the beginning of an era, _he thought.

* * *

**Sorry again for being a bit late!  
**

**No, this is not the end. There's still plenty more story in my mind. ^^ I'll try and get the next chapter out by next Tuesday, and after that winter break starts, so I'll have plenty of time!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this is later (much later) than I promised. We just started the long rehearsals for our school musical (Annie!) and my teachers decided a few days before winter break would be a great time to start loading on the homework. Ugh, real life. Sometimes you really get in the way.**

**But here it is! The second-to-last chapter.

* * *

**

"Hey, open this up."

Eugene's sharp knocks pounded against the loose plank of wood in the wall of the main bedroom. Lissie skidded off her bed, tripping over a sleeping Henry as she scrambled towards the sound.

"Hey!" he cried, rubbing his leg. Lissie patted his head once before swinging open the plank.

Eugene squeezed though, his fifteen-year-old torso barely fitting between the sturdy wood surrounding him.

"Certainly took you long enough," he mumbled, brushing flecks of the lower-kingdom's dirt road off of his shirt and combing back his hair from his eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" Lissie hung her head, flushing, "I-I t-tripped. It ain't gonna happen again." She slowly looked up at him with timid eyes, and his face softened.

"As long as it doesn't." He swung a rough burlap bag off his shoulder, setting it in the middle of the room. Every orphan's head popped up in response to the sound of apples and bread loaves bumping against the floor. "Dig in, everyone," Eugene popped out a corked bottle and opened it, taking a swift drink.

"What's that Eugene?" Robert asked in-between stuffing the bread into his mouth.

"Rum," Eugene smiled against the bottle's top, "and unfortunately for _you, _it's _all mine."_

"Rum?" Jack sprung from his spot, desperately climbing over Eugene to reach it. "I want some!"

"Nope, sorry," Eugene held it above his frantic hand, grinning slyly, "it's only for me."

"I don't like it," Lissie munched on an apple, licking the sugary juices off her sticky lips. Her face cast down to the floor, "I don't like you drinking rum. It smells bad and you act weird when you do it."

Eugene stuck the cork back into the bottle, chuckling. "Yeah, well, it makes me feel good." He lowered down to Lissie, gazing right at her with his sparkling amber eyes, brown hair just delicately swept into his face, "Don't I deserve to feel good?"

Lissie reminded herself how to breathe before nodding softly.

"I still think it's weird that you got all mad at Armond for stealin' and now you're doin' it yourself," Mary twisted a blond curl on the tip of her finger, frowning, "And it's only gottin' worse since Catherine went to be a maid."

"People grow, things change," Eugene told her, "And eventually you have to grow up and accept that this," he motioned towards the now-empty bag, "may be the only way to survive."

Mary only shrugged, "If you say so. But I still ain't sure."

"Stop bein' such a priss," Robert tugged at one of her curls, dodging her quick slap towards his face.

"Stop bein' such a—"

"Don't get his blood on the mats, Mary," Eugene ignored Robert's snarl as he entered the circle. He scooped up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before going to crawl back through the hole in the wall.

"Where are you going?" Lissie asked, reaching forward to hold back the plank for him.

"Out," was his only answer, and soon he had faded into the night.

It had hardly been a shock for anyone in the orphanage. Eugene often left at night, just to stalk the streets, steal more food or blankets for the orphans, or just to think. He said that he couldn't stay in that stuffy little orphanage for very long before feeling like a caged bird. In fact, he hardly spent very much time there at all; occasionally sleeping, wandering the halls, or reluctantly eating (only, he claimed, because he didn't "feel" like stealing better food) but his presence was irregular. He came and left without a word or an explanation of where he had been.

Brisk fall air tousled Eugene's hair as he walked the soundless streets. The lower-kingdom was spooky, almost ghostly, at this time of night—the sun had long set and would not return for a couple hours, and the few guards there were in the lower kingdom had taken shelter in the safe confines of their upper-kingdom homes. The only light was the faint glow from within a few windows, way up on the top floors.

And as much as he would not admit it, he still jumped at the slightest sound.

Down the street, a darkly-dressed man leapt from a scaffolding on one of the bigger lower-kingdom homes, a burlap sack hung over his shoulder as he ran into the streets. Eugene rolled his eyes, continuing on his way. You had to get used to regular acts of thievery living like this. It was, to say the least, inevitable.

But suddenly, the robber changed direction—right towards Eugene.

He slipped behind a wall, waiting for the figure to pass by him. But then, a thought crossed his mind. Whatever was in that bag…it wasn't money, he knew what that sounded like. As the bouncing bag grew closer, he listened intently to the sound it made.

It sounded like books.

Why a petty street thief would want books, he didn't know. But he did know that there were a whole bunch of orphans that would enjoy them well enough. And eh, he had time.

As the thief passed, Eugene burst out from behind the wall and grabbed the bag in one swift movement. Before the man could react, he was sprinting down the pitch black street, wheezing a breathy laugh.

"I'm gonna get you, twerp!" the thief chased after him, and Eugene heard what sounded like him drawing a knife. The fifteen year old was faster, however, and the man was soon lost in the clutter of crowded buildings.

Rasping breaths, he gripped the bag to his chest, resting behind a corner. The bag was terribly heavy, and he struggled to keep it off the ground. He knew large books weighed quite a bit, but not _this_ much. Reaching inside, he pulled out a leather-bound book, tracing his fingers over the crinkled pages.

The book was definitely heavier than normal. But he was sure it was nothing—he was probably just used to _The Tales of Flannigan Rider_, that's all.

"Hey guy, that was _amazing!" _

Gasping, Eugene dove back into the alley, crouching behind a pile of crates. The rapid footsteps came closer, and the crates covering him crashed to the ground.

Eugene jumped to his feet, ready to fight, but instead the person yanked him forward by the shoulders, right into their face.

"I can't believe you did that!" The voice and hands belonged to a massive young man with chubby but muscular arms bulging out of a too-small vest. His rotten-meat like breath wheezed over Eugene's crinkled nose.

"Ain't no one ever take on the Ebony Foxes!" Another figure, female, popped out from behind the man. "Ya got guts!"

"What?" Eugene struggled against the massive hands holding him, but he couldn't break free, "What are you talking about?"

"You!" The woman exclaimed, bouncing closer, "Stealing that money from the Ebony Foxes! It was great, I tell ya!"

"Um, yeah," Eugene pushed on the man's chest, but he still wouldn't let go, "I don't know what you're talking about…" Then, his foot swung back and knocked over the bag, spilling its contents to the floor. The books fell open, revealing their hollow interiors to be filled with…

Eugene could not believe it. He had just stolen a bag full of who-knows-how-many golden coins.

He barely had time to make a shocked face before his captor began dragging him down the street, holding him off the ground by his torso. The man's companion collected the "books" and money in the bag and followed.

"Ya comin' with us!"

Eugene stopped fighting; it was useless. Rather, he found his footing and followed them to a small pair of doors hidden in the wall of shop.

"The owners don't know we's here," The woman said, pulling open the heavy wood, "it ain't the castle, but hey, its home."

Their "home" was nothing more than an abandoned cellar, practically just a hole in the ground. Candles cast dim light over the room, a pair of blankets on the ground marking their beds.

Now that he had light, he could study the pair more closely, and they gave him a little explanation. The man, or Bug, as he was called, had a greasy, hair littered face, his perpetual smile missing a few teeth. His sister, Mil, aged probably 18 or 19, was shorter and thinner. She had matted black hair, which often fell into her face. Her considerable chest strained against a skin tight sleeveless dress, and though she wasn't all that attractive by any means with her skinny, rat-like face, she seemed to think she was (or, at least, wanted others to think she was).

They were orphans themselves since childhood, but had avoided the orphanages at all costs, instead surviving on pick pocketing and begging. The group he had stolen from—the Ebony Foxes—was a large underground gang, involving residents of both the lower and upper kingdoms, and was known among the lowest scum of both to be one of the largest, best-guarded gangs around.

"Ooh, I'm glad we brought this lad back home," Mil ran her finger over his chest, pushing her sharp, blade-like nose close to his cheek. She touched the tip of her tongue to her front teeth, "So honey, ya wanna get a little reward for yer work?"

"He don't want no reward you can give 'im," Bug sifted his hands through the coins, giving a holey grin, "Ah, man. I thinks the Ebony Foxes were doing some kinda exchange or somethin'…and you got the bag!"

Mil scooped up a glittering handful of coins, "Ooh, even once we split this, we's gonna be rich!"

"Rich?"

Him. Rich.

What he had always dreamed of. But…

He was pretty average as a thief, to be honest. He hadn't done more than steal apples and wool blankets, and that won't earn you more than a slap on the wrists, really. As much as he dreamed of the good life, he had never stolen money before (except for the money he stole to save Nan). He wasn't sure he was ready to make that leap.

But he kind of already had, hadn't he?

"Wait, 'split?'" Eugene smirked, "Why exactly would I spilt these with you?"

"I could make ya want to…" Mil scooted forward, reaching for him. He slapped her hand away.

"Nuh uh, no thanks."

"Damn, handsome, ya really know how to bring a girl down."

"Ah, nuts!"

"What?" he and Mil asked in unison.

"Somebody in that deal was gettin' juped." Bug held up a coin, biting it. When he showed it to them again, a bit of gold paint had chipped off to reveal plain metal.

"So we ain't rich tonight," Mil sighed, kicking over the bag, "Nuts is right."

Eugene sat back, closing his eyes. For a few moments, he had been imagining himself alone in a grand bedroom, overlooking the beach, far far away from the lower-kingdom…

"Well, if at first ya don't succeed, try try again."Mil smirked, sitting up again,

"What?" Eugene asked,

"We steal somethin' else. We's finally found a partner that can really help out." Mil emptied his bag on the floor, letting the fake coins pile in front of her. She tossed it back to him. "We's been scoping out this upper-kingdom place. The wife's got more jewels than what's fair…we think we should relieve her of them, if ya know what I mean."

"You," Bug smiled again, "ya gone and steal from the Ebony Foxes, even if they was fake. You is just the thing to help us with this job. Ya in?"

Is he in? Is he in a robbery? Stealing just for profit? Is he sinking that low to get rich?

He wanted to get out of this life. He needed to get out of this life.

If he was wealthy, that would mean no more apples and blankets. No more orphanages. No more stenches of manure in the air and no more Crossover Street. No more trash, riff raff, or street urchin. No more scrambling for money or food. No more. He could be alone, respected, and never have to be seen as "just Sir Herbert's shameful bastard" ever again. He could have everything he'd always wanted. Everything and more.

"I'm in."

"Great!" Mil cried, diving forward to viciously shake his hand, "Oh, and what's yer name? Ya never told us!"

"Eugene," he replied, "Eugene Fitzherbert."

Mil stopped, gaping at Bug. They both burst out laughing.

"What kinda name is that! ?" Mil gasped, rolling on the ground, "Ya ain't really gonna keep that, right?"

"I…I…" Eugene had never liked his name that much, especially considering its meaning. But all his life he'd been told it's a noble name…is it really that silly sounding? Now that he thought about it, yes, it was. He felt his cheeks burning as Mil and Bug's laughter finally slowed.

"Meet us at the Crossover Street at midnight in two days." Mil pushed open the doors to their hideout, "And then we can get into action."

* * *

Eugene drifted through the halls of the orphanage, not looking nor speaking to anyone. Even Nan couldn't get him to respond to her many questions, to the point where she stopped trying. His mind was in the clouds, or, rather, at his first major act of thievery. As the hours dragged on, there was one less hour until he had to actually go and steal something of real value—intentionally, that is.

What if they were caught? This kind of robbery was much more than a few days in prison level. This was dangling-dead-by-your-neck level.

But if he was going to get where he wanted, he had to take that risk.

"You ain't leavin' again, are you?" Lissie groaned, sliding open the plank of wood, "You ain't never around anymore!"

"Life goes on, squirt." Eugene collected his bag, stepping outside.

"I'm ain't a squirt! I'm eleven years old!"

"Ok, ok," Eugene took one last look inside the room, at all the cold and dust and grime he'd known throughout his life. He wasn't sure if he'd ever return here—he wasn't sure if he _could. _But all that depended on how tonight went, so he didn't want to say goodbye just yet in case the kids got Nan suspicious.

"Ok?" Lissie scooted closer, furrowing her eyebrows, "Usually when I say somethin' like that, you make some snarky comment and leave."

"I'm not focused right now, ok! ?" Eugene slammed the plank closed, leaving her sitting alone on the floor.

"Please come back," she whispered, her eyes watering.

Eugene did his best to stop himself from breaking into a run on his way to the Crossover Street. Despite the blackened sky, the streets were still littered with one or two people, finishing up their daily rounds before bed. An occasional yawning guard passed by him, not even glancing at the boy walking down the street alone.

Finally, the scattered beginning of a cobblestone road appeared.

"Hey! Its _Euuugene_!" Mil snickered, waving towards him. Eugene groaned, meeting them at the Crossover.

"Could you be a little louder?" he hissed at her, "I don't think the guards swarming the upper-kingdom will find three lower-kingdomers hanging around some house to be suspicious enough."

"Oh…right." Mil snickered again, patting on the shoulder, "loosen up, will ya?"

"You do realize how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught, right?"

"Yeah. Just makes it more excitin'!" Mil danced ahead of him, skipping down the cobblestone. Bug let out hooting laughter, cheering his sister on with loud howls. Eugene's breaths raced, and he started to wonder how for the sake Corona's high crown he got himself into this.

Oh yeah. Because he _needed _that money. But he wasn't going to get it unless he _shut them up_.

"You people need to learn that one great tricks of this trade is to _keep your fat mouths zipped,"_ Eugene marched ahead of them, slipping behind a stone corner to avoid a guard, "or I swear I will throw you into one of their arms and collect the reward!"

"Oh, silly, that won't be much!" Bug thumped his shoulder. Eugene sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hand.

"How about I lead the way for the rest of this…um…'mission'? Where is this place?"

"Down the main street and on the right. I'll tell ya when,"

Eugene followed the main street for what seemed like eternity. Often he would look back at Mil and Bug, _praying _that they would finally have something to say. Gradually, the small, comfortable homes grew in size and grandeur until they were towering, glimmering mansions, far more magnificent than anything Eugene had ever seen. It was when the pearly marble arches began covering every doorway that he finally decided to put his foot down.

"Where is this place? You said—"

"It's right there!" Bug pointed down the street with his beefy pointer finger. Eugene squinted out, and at the end of the street, was a mansion that dwarfed all the others. Gold traced the door and window frames, twisting and swirling in patterns of flowers and vines. Ladders of decorative ivy trailed up to the roof on one side, and smooth marble path led up to its carved wooden front door.

Eugene had to pick his jaw off the ground.

"Are you insane?" he snapped, Bug and Mil giving him blank stares, "This has to belong to the richest noble in Corona!"

"But the owners are gone fer a month!" Mil grinned, showing off a set of browned teeth, "See, we thought this through!"

Eugene gripped his hair, ready to pull it right out, "But it will still be swarming with guards and servants!"

"Com'n, all we gotta do is slip into that window," Bug pointed again to one of the larger windows on the house, "grab some jewels, and slip out! Easy!"

"You two aren't very bright, are you?" Eugene rolled his eyes, pushing past them to begin his trip back to the lower-kingdom.

"Fine, go!" Mil shouted after him, making him flinch. Was she _trying _to get caught? "Yer gonna live the rest of yer life some lower-kingdom brat with no money, while _we's _gonna be living the good life! So long, _Eugene Fitzherbert_!" She turned back to her brother, chuckling, "What a dumb name…"

Eugene gripped his fists, clenching his jaw. The heat of anger inside him rose faster than he could cool it. He didn't ask to be Eugene Fitzherbert, worthless bastard. He didn't _want_ to be Eugene Fitzherbert, worthless bastard. He wanted to be more, so much more, and that was what he was going to be. _Tonight. _

Before he could think twice, he launched himself on the wall of the house, hands frantically holding the ivy to support him. He climbed, muscles straining and lungs rasping, his mind whirring from the emptiness below him.

Finally, his fingers hit the cold stone of the window frame, and he pushed himself into a magnificent master bedroom.

He didn't have time to admire it, however. He needed to do just as Bug had said—get in, and get out.

The pair followed him into the room. Mil whistled, gaping at the striped violet-and-lavender wallpaper and huge four-poster bed. "What I wouldn't do to live in a place like this."

"What ya _is_ doin'." Bug pointed out, and they were caught in a fit of giggles.

"Shh!" Eugene snapped just above his breath, "we need to find the jewels!"

It took all of his willpower to not gaze at the brilliant room himself. Instead, he scanned the cluttered vanity and dressers, searching for anything that looked like jewelry. Finally, amidst the powders and ribbons hid a carved ivory box, barely the size of his hand.

He opened the top, greeted by a walnut-sized ruby nestled in a diamond bouquet, all held together by a silver chain. His heart danced at the sight of it, his eyes gleaming with greed. There was going to be more where that came from, and by God, he was going to get them!

"Excellent," he whispered, dropping it in his bag, "OK, I got something. There's bound to be more somewhere—"

"I saw someone climbing the ivy!"

"I bet they're in the Mistress's room!"

"We must find them!"

The outside hall clashed and clanged, dozens of footsteps clamoring to reach the very room they were in. Eugene could barely hear his own thoughts over the noise. His heart raced, along with his thoughts. Doubt filled his mind. Why did he do this? He was dead—no. He was getting out of here and out of here _rich. _

Abandoning all stealth, his arms flung through the items scattered on the dresser, sending them crashing to the ground. Anything that glittered was promptly thrown into his bag.

"What's ya doin'?" Mil cried, about to climb out the open window, "We hafta get out!"

"No! I'm not leaving without my money!"

"Yer crazy!" Bug yelled. The footsteps drew nearer, the siblings only staring wide eyed at the door, looking as if they were about to crumble. Of course they were; but why weren't they leaving?

Because they were waiting for him. They weren't going to bail on him.

Damn, they really were dumb.

Eugene's bag wasn't nearly full enough when the guards and servants burst through the double doors. He almost wanted to look just a little bit more, but something down inside him finally convinced him it was time to cut and run. In two leaping strides, Eugene shoved past Mil and Bug, flipping onto the ivy that served his escape. As he practically fell down the twisted vines, he saw Mil and Bug's faces flash in the window before they were grabbed screaming back into the room, lost from sight.

He hit the ground in a roll, not even looking at the house behind him as he slid up to his feet and took off running. Blood surged through his veins as a mischievous grin spread on his lips. A strange, dangerous high came over him—he had just stolen, and gotten away with it.

"Eugene! Help us!" Mil screeched from the room, but her voice didn't reach his adrenaline-filled head. He raced through the upper-kingdom streets, bag slapping against his burning side. His breaths were huffing and sweat flowed down his forehead when he finally flew over the Crossover Street.

After just a moment, the high crashed. He slammed against a rickety wooden wall, gasping for any tiny bit of air. His sweat-soaked palm was wrapped around the worn bag at his side, gripping it for dear life.

What had he just done?

Mil and Bug were gone. There was no getting around it—they were captured, soon to be jailed. There was simply no hope for the two. He had abandoned them in his escape. Why, then, did he not feel more sorry about it? To be honest…he felt sneaky, sly, and manipulative, and it felt good.

He stood back up, legs shaking as he struggled past the frosted walls to the building he knew all too well. Sliding open the loose plank on the wall, he slipped into the main bedroom. Small snores filled the air as he carefully stepped over the others on his way to his mat.

He knew every corner of this orphanage. He had every crack, every splinter, every cranny carefully stored deep in his brain, the image never to be blurred. His mat, lying as it had for the last 12 years (not, of course, counting the three he had spent in the baby's room), showed the faint line of his body imprinted onto its surface. He wondered if it would ever flatten out now.

Tucked in the blanket of his bed, he found his one lifeline for most of his childhood—The Tales of Flannigan Rider. His fingerprints, ranging from his tiny early ones to his more recent teenage ones, spotted its cover and now-yellowed pages. The hero he had adored so much still smiled back at him, just the same as it ever had.

But he was not the seven year old that had read his adventures so religiously anymore. No, now he was a man—a thief. And a thief has no time to dwell on his childhood; on the building, book, and people that had built him, brick by brick, into what he was today.

Eugene sighed. Nah, Nan didn't deserve that. She didn't make him a thief. She did her absolute best to make sure he _didn't _go down that path, with her soft but stern words and persistent support of him, even when he got snarky or ragingly angry. But, somehow, he had escaped her care and ran down it with a smile on his face.

He was a thief now. It was the only way.

He remembered, five long years ago, how he had sat at breakfast that warm day, growling at the lump of gruel he had been left to eat. How innocently that little boy had wished for riches. Guess what, kid? Soon, you'll be stealing for them.

But first, he needed a new name. Damn the noble father that did nothing for him—he didn't what his legacy following him everywhere he went, or the "honor" that came with it. But most of all, damn how silly it sounded. If a girl named Mil would laugh at it, who knows who else would?

He looked down at the book sitting in his lap.

Flannigan Rider. He could use that. No, that was too obvious. Someone was going to know it was just a book character.

Flann Rider? No, still not good enough. Maybe if he changed it a little more…

Flynn Rider.

Perfect.

Flynn Rider, proud thief, stepped out of the orphanage for the last time. The snores and faces of the children he grew up with, Lissie, Mary, Jack…even Armond, Phillip, and Catherine in his mind, all disappeared behind the plank as he swung it closed, never to open it again.

* * *

**One more chapter to go, and hopefully I'll get the next one done soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Last chapter! Thank you to my readers, and I hope you enjoy the finale!

* * *

**

"Hey Rider, want another one?"

"Pour me up, Sam."

Flynn slurped down his scotch with one loud gulp, sighing as the bitter liquid burned the back of his throat. Smiling, he held his mug back up, plopping his muddy boots on the wobbling wood counter.

"How about another one? For the road?"

"Ya ain't gonna be able to dodge no guards with a swagger in ya step." Sam, the bartender, wiped the area around Flynn's boot with a beige wet rag, not even bothering to move his feet. Sam's Place was one squished, long room, tucked away in one of the corners of the lower-kingdom. The scum of the city swarmed and stuffed the place like ants, all day, all night. Thieves, con-men, and the occasional murderer splashed their alcohol all over the paled wooden walls, shouting, singing brassy, vulgar bar tunes, and loudly bragging of the crimes they'd got away with.

Flynn had walked into his bar just a few months ago, bright eyed and full of mischief. There was no way this clean, witty youth had any place in Sam's seedy old bar, but he seemed to think he did. He had charm, Sam gave him that, and he knew how to use it. But the old man couldn't help but want to turn him away every time he entered. It just didn't seem right to let someone like that into his little dump.

"Just 'cause ya got more whiskey than ya can handle don't make ya a man, pretty boy!" Simon Stonger hooted as he thumped Flynn on the shoulder, slamming his other burly, hair-littered arm on the table.

"And just because you have a deep-rooted fear of hygiene doesn't make you one."

"Why ya little!" Simon snarled through his missing teeth. Beefy fingers gripped Flynn's collar, yanking him from his seat at the bar. "Ya'r probably a little upper-kingdom twit tryin' to look tough…ya defin'ly talk like one!"

"Born and raised in the lower, actually. I just have this little thing called a brain."

Simon squeezed his collar tighter. Flynn gulped, just then realizing how much bigger Simon was than him when the hair muscles flexed with anger.

"Hey boys, I don't want no brawls in my bar!" Sam jutted his hand between them, and Simon set Flynn down. He wasn't exactly sure why, though; Sam's skin lined his thin bones, a withered silver beard just proving his age. Still, Simon needed his alcohol, and Sam was the easiest way to get it.

"I think I got to run." Flynn looked out the beer-stained window to the darkening sky. "Most of the guards will be stalking the streets once the sun goes down."

Sam stroked the tangled curls of his beard.

"Flynn, I don't mean to insult ya, but…ya do realize you're still very much a boy."

"Ugh, not you too—"

"Yer only eighteen, Rider. These here are world-weary old men who don't have any freedom of youth anymore."

Flynn sighed, rubbing his forehead, "Which means…"

"Ya ought to go, find a nice girl, and get out of this life before yer too tangled up in it to do that when ya actually want to."

"Yeah, I'll get back to you on that." Flynn gave a tiny salute, turning on his heels and walking out.

The sun was just dipping below the roofs of the city as he fitted himself into the crowds of people making their final daily rounds. The passing guards barely glanced at the bustling peasants, preferring to just yawn and complain about how awful it is to have a shift in the lower kingdom.

Then, something caught his eye. A single wanted poster fluttered in the wind on the wall next to him, printed with his own face (but with a practically microscopic nose—did they really think it was that small?)

"I have a wanted poster," he mumbled to himself, "Cool!" He would have to brag to Sam later.

Flynn saw the thatched roof of his hideout, a tiny abandoned shack behind a storage house, just beyond a fence stretching over the lot. He kneeled down to crawl through a small hole, already sighing with exhaustion, when a voice rang out over the streets.

"Hey, its that guy on the wanted poster!"

"Yeah, what of it? 'Sides, his nose is too big."

"No, its 'im alright, and there's a reward fer turnin' 'im in!"

"Guards! Look there!"

Oh no…not now! Flynn dug at the earth between his fingers, kicking and the ground with his feet.

"Come on!" he growled, but his shoulders were just edging their way into it. He could hear the clanking footsteps of the castle guards as they ran toward him and the sliding of them drawing their swords. All of his digging just couldn't squeeze his chest though fast enough and he gave up on the hole, pushing himself off the ground and pounding into the streets of the lower-kingdom. The guard shouted after him, telling him to "halt in the name of the law," and all those lines, like that was really going to stop him.

He leapt over screeching chickens and squealing children, trying his absolute best to create as many obstacles as he could, but the guards were right behind him every time he looked back.

"Why are they so set on chasing a petty thief?" he whispered. It must be the time of year every criminal recognized; when the new recruits come in, eager to catch all the criminals they could, and the old guards who've had the time to get lazy and useless trick the system to give them the bad parts of the city.

Just his luck. But hey, they should be easy to lose.

But with another stroke of luck, they weren't. As Flynn took another quick turn into an alleyway, this one littered with heavy wooden boxes, they evaded every pile he toppled at him and glided over every crate he hoped would slow them down.

"Why did they have to send the _competent_ ones after me?" He reentered the sunlight, turning again down the street. He was going to lose hope when, after a _real _stroke of luck, he saw the one place he could hide.

Just before the guards turned the corner after him, he yanked open the orphanage door and dove in. His breaths heaved as he backed into the familiar halls.

"Wow," he mumbled, turning to look at them. Three years he had almost forgotten this place, and here it was, just as he had left it.

"Of my kids to grow up for me to see on a wanted poster," A small footstep tapped behind him, "you were the last one I expected."

Flynn moaned, brushing back his hair with his fingers.

"Look, Nan, I'm just in here to hide for a bit. I'll be gone soon, and it'll be like I was never here at all."

"I want to talk to you first." He turned to meet her. She glared back at him with the grey eyes he knew so well. They often flashed in his memory whenever he wasn't sure if he was going to get out a tight spot he'd buried himself in, and now they were back in person, just as bright as they were before.

The rest of her, however, had let the years take their toll. The silver that had once just streaked her hair now almost dominated it, only a few patches of chestnut showing through. Her skin had grown withered and pale, and her limps moved with slow care as if she was afraid she'd fall apart if she shifted too quickly. It was as if he had been away a decade instead of only three years.

In her hand was a wrinkled parchment of paper, his smirking face looking up to him.

"Really, Eugene? Flynn Rider? That was the best you could come up with?"

"Don't call me Eugene, that's not my name anymore. And Flynn Rider is awesome!"

"Eugene is the name your mother gave you. It will always be your name." Nan crossed her arms, stepping closer, "Flynn Rider sounds like you're a boy trying to sound like a grown man. Oh, wait…"

"Hey!" Flynn waltzed up to her, pushing his face right into hers. Despite the fact he was a good head taller than her now, her eyes never left his, glowering up at him with her signature stone-strait determination, "I understand, a motherly figure being overly protective and trying to stop her kid from growing up, but you know, one day they have to fly out of the nest! Possibly to perform misdemeanors!"

"You and your sarcasm," Nan growled, "It not the growing up that's the problem, Eugene—"

"Hey Nan, I—Ohmygosh." Flynn looked past Nan to see Lissie, taller and blooming into teenage hood. Her slacked jaw and eyes were pointed strait at him.

"Eu…Eu…" she gasped, before spinning on her heels and running off.

"She still adores you," Nan sighed, pressing her fingertips to her temple, "She's fourteen years old now, you know. Teenagers do that sort of thing." She softened her glare, taking his shoulder, "Please, Eugene…"

"Its Flynn Ri—"

"I am _not _calling you that, boy! Just…stop this. This crime. You're not living like you could be, a nice boy like you. You could help old poor people like us! Right now, you aren't helping anybody but yourself."

Flynn smirked, gently shaking his head.

"I stole that money to get you cured, Nan."

"…What?" she whispered just above a breath, stepping back.

"Dr. Frederickson didn't cure you out of friendship or charity. I had to steal one hundred gold coins to get him to save you from the Merolia. My crimes are the only reason you're alive today."

Nan was silent.

She looked off past him, at the wall. Her breaths slowed, her hand resting on her chest, gently moving up and down.

"I see." She held her hands together, still not looking at him.

"I need this life. It's the only way."

"Someday, I hope you meet someone that will make you regret this."

"I doubt that very much." Flynn turned back to the door, opening it, "Goodbye, Nan."

"That's Ms. Collier to you." The last thing he saw was her back to him, leaving him in the hallway.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing, before shutting the door behind him and rejoining the crowds on the streets.

The night had finally come, the sky black above except for the sprinkled stars. He was just about to look down again, when, from the corner of his eye, he saw new lights take over the darkness; the lanterns, filling the air with their warm glow of soft pinks and purples. The lower-kingdomers around him gazed up at them with sorrowful eyes, as if they wished they could float up as well, away from their troubles.

Eight years ago, he had looked up at the lanterns the same way, he remembered.

But, in those eight years, he learned a few things. 1, The princess is never returning. 2, Eugene Fitzherbert is a dumb sounding name, and he'll never go by it again (nor should he). 3, thievery is the only way he was going to get rich, thus, the only way he was going to be happy. 4, you look out for yourself, you'll get by the easiest, and thus, the best.

And that, he decided, was his new gospel.

* * *

**3 Years Later

* * *

**

"I can't believe you never took me here! To the place of your childhood!"

"Yeah, well, its not exactly anything to get excited about."

Rapunzel looked over the lower-kingdom with odd wonderment, as if there was truly something majestic about it at all instead of it just being filth and wood. Though, he supposed, it _is_ new to her, and being cooped up in a tower your entire life would make anything cool and interesting. Eugene led her down the dirt road, pointing out some of his most distinct memories, like the bookseller that had given him the novel that inspired his name, now boarded up and abandoned. The people of the lower-kingdom gawked at them as they passed (well, mostly at Rapunzel), a few barefoot children sneaking up to touch her silk dress and running off before she could greet them.

"They aren't used to upper-kingdomers that aren't guards coming down here," Eugene said, taking her hand and gently pulling her around a corner, "especially not the princess."

"Its so sad, why are these people cut off in this part of the city?"

"Well, they aren't really _cut off_," Eugene told her, shrugging, "they can cross over if they want to, but most just don't. This is the poor area of the city."

"I can't believe you grew up here." Rapunzel shook her head, running her fingers through her crop of brown hair.

"Well, I did. Also, watch out for the accent. I learned to talk right when I was really little, but people around here usually talk differently than the upper-kingdomers. Like this, ya know hun?"

Rapunzel giggled at his mockery. "I'll watch out."

Then, Eugene stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh man…"

Rapunzel looked out in the direction he was staring. Right there, squished between a shoe maker store and a butcher, was a rickety old building, barely the size her suite at home. The planks bent and split, and the entire thing seemed to be leaning over. Right in front was a sign swinging in the breeze. She was barely able to read the chipped paint ; "_Coronanian Home for Orphans."_

"That's it?" she asked, her voice failing to hide her distaste.

"Thanks, Blondie."

"Sorry."

Eugene opened the gate, leading to the front door. His hand almost didn't want to knock on it, with Nan's final words to him still haunting his mind.

"_That's Ms. Collier to you."_

Would she change that if she knew how far he'd come, and that he had done what she said? He did find someone, someone he wanted to give up his life of crime for. In fact, both of their dreams came true! Would she hug him and tear up and tell him how proud she was of him, like he had been wanting her to ever since he and Rapunzel left her tower for the last time? He'd fought guards, brawled with thugs, stolen priceless royal treasures, full-out _died _for the one he loved, and he had to muster all of his courage to knock on the orphanage door.

The door opened. Eugene held his breath, trying to be brave. Who knows what he will see? Who knows what has happened in the years he was gone?

Then, the opener was revealed. Eugene almost couldn't believe it. He rubbed his eyes, jaw dropping. A brown-eyed, pale girl with fiery red hair stood before him.

"_Catherine?"_ Eugene grinned, reaching forward to grasp her arms, "Is that _you?_ What are _you _doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Catherine opened the door wider to let them in, her frown telling him she wasn't doing it out of friendship. He chuckled nervously, and her eyes only narrowed, "And this is?..."

"This is Rapunzel!" she joked, smiling and giving a little wave, "Eugene is my…well, we're together."

"Rapunzel?" It was Catherine's turn to gape at him, "As in…the princess?"

"Well, yeah!" Eugene wrapped his arm around her waist, "Nice catch, eh?"

"Yes. Quite nice…How did you…?

"Long story, Cat. Next time."

"Alright then…" She rolled her eyes, "And wait, I thought you went by," Catherine groaned, "_'Flynn Rider' _now."

"Nope, its Eugene again."

"Really now?"

"Cath, what's going on?" A tall, bearded man with soft eyes poked his head out of the main bedroom. He smiled kindly as he approached them, "Who's this?"

"I'm Eugene Fitzherbert, one of Catherine's friends from back in our orphan days. This is Princess Rapunzel."

The man bowed, "It is an honor, your highness."

"You can just call me Rapunzel." She shrugged.

"And Eugene Fitzherbert…Oh, yeah, you might've mentioned him." The man reached forward a broad hand to shake Eugene's, rough calluses scratching against his skin. "I'm Catherine's husband, John."

"Hello, John!" Rapunzel piped, a huge smile, "Would you mind showing me the children? I would love to see them!"

"Why, of course! I'm sure they would be ecstatic to meet you."

John took Rapunzel's arm, leading her down the hall. Eugene stood alone with Catherine, who still wouldn't meet his eye.

Finally, he spoke up, "Cat…"

Catherine glared at him, crossing her arms, "Eugene, can I talk to you in the dining hall?"

"Um…okay."

He followed her down the hall, stopping only to peak into the main bedroom. Most of the kids were crowded around Rapunzel, gripping at her dress and reaching up for the chance to be held by her. The nostalgia hit him like a speeding cart, seeing all those children roll and shout and play in the same place he did (some of the orphans he remembered, like Jane and Henry, were still there, taller and leading the younger ones like they had been lead by him) "Oh my gosh…Oh…there's my mat! It's still there! And that plank I used to…"

"Eugene, come on."

"Sorry, just trying to appreciate my childhood, that's all." Eugene smirked, closing the door of the room behind him and leaving his reminiscing behind. He walked with her into the dining hall. "What the problem?"

"The problem is…" Catherine fumed, slamming her fist on the table, "that us good people, those who'd never take _anything _we didn't earn, are stuck in this hellhole of a town while you, Mr. Thief, seduce a princess and get to live in a palace!"

"I didn't _seduce _her, Catherine!" Eugene stared at her so strongly she had to believe him, "I love her!" He should have known she'd react like this. He really should have. But, to be honest, he had to face it: he kind of deserved it. "I found her, Cat, all cooped up in a tower for her entire life. She wanted to see the world, and conned me into doing it. Pretty well, in fact."

"Her?"

"Yeah, I would never have thought so either. Anyway, then, we went on this…journey together, and I thought we were going to die. So I told her my name. She actually liked Eugene better."

"All us orphans did. We all agreed Flynn Rider was silly the first time we heard it."

"I know…maybe I saw some of this orphanage in her. I don't know. But then we went through the kingdom…and we went on a boat to see the lanterns together, and I realized how beautiful she was…"

"D'aw." Catherine fluttered her eyelashes.

"Eh, shut up! And then a whole lot of _other _stuff happened that would take too long to explain, and then I died…"

"_What?_"

"Nothing. And then, we came back to the kingdom."

"Wow." Catherine shook her head, "You've been having quite the adventures. Me, I've just been here taking care of these kids and—"

"Wait, you?" Eugene asked, getting closer, "Why are you…?"

"Angelica Collier died two years ago, Eugene. I'm Nan now."

"Oh." That was all he could say. All his mind could comprehend.

Eugene sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his elbows on his knees. Nan...she's dead? His caretaker…his mother. She's gone. The one person he came here to see…the one person he cared about before Rapunzel. The one that had supported him all those years, before she finally gave up on him. She is dead. He felt tears starting to well in his eyes. "What happened to everyone else?"

"The kids? Well, Mary went out to find a small job till she found a husband. No one's heard of Armond for years."

Eugene nodded.

"Lissie ran off a year ago with some guy she thought loved her and hasn't been seen since. But _he_ was seen not a month later macking on some girl in a bar."

"Poor Lissie."

"Uh huh. And Jack joined the military; I think he wants to be an archer. Robert's an apprentice, and I'm here."

Eugene didn't say anything for a long time. He breathed in and out, trying to let the information seep into him.

"So yeah, you got off pretty well." Catherine stuck up her nose, "for a thief."

"Life works that way, I guess."

"I guess."

"Catherine, I'm not the little brat that left here six years ago." He stood to meet her, "I've changed. Rapunzel, she…well, she just _changed _me. Gave me a new outlook on life. Please, please believe me."

Catherine looked at him for a long time, not saying a thing. Then, her lips turned up into a small smile, "I think I do, Eugene. I do."

"Thank you." He smiled, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, look," he continued, leading her out of the room, "There's a ball in a few weeks at the palace to celebrate Rapunzel's return. I want you, Jack, Mary, and Robert to come. Plus any of the other old orphans you can track down."

"I've got kids, Eugene—"

"The palace nursery can take care of them for the night."

She grinned, and he could already see the excitement bubbling up inside her. "Well, in that case, I can't miss it for the world, can I?"

"Guess not. Its not like you'll ever have another opportunity like this."

"Oh goodness, I'll have to find a dress…and something for John to wear, of course, the man lives in his ripped up old shirt, and then…"

The two met John and Rapunzel outside the main bedroom, the girl's face lit up the way only Rapunzel's could.

"Those kids are so sweet!" She took Eugene's arm, resting her head on his shoulder, "they think I'm so special…"

Catherine raised an eyebrow, "Well…you _are _the princess."

"True."

Nodding goodbye to the pair, Eugene opened the door of the orphanage, ready to leave. A hand stopped him.

"Thanks, Eugene. For everything." Catherine said, and, for a moment, he could almost see Nan, his Nan, cross her face. In another, though, the image disappeared.

"You're welcome." He gave her one last nod before truly walking out of his childhood home for the last time, out into the blinding sunlight of the day.

As the orphanage faded from view, he looked up to the cloud-painted sky.

"Thanks Nan," he whispered, taking a slow, shaky breath, "for everything."

Rapunzel smiled softly, holding his hand tighter.

Together, they walked forward to both of their new homes, new families, and new lives.

**The End.

* * *

**

**I must admit I'm pretty proud of this story. It probably helped that I had written down a complete outline of the plot before I started it (I made some changes from my original draft in the writing process, but that's to be expected. Like, for example, Catherine originally didn't have nearly as big of a role, the last half of this chapter was all about Lissie (who had a very different fate), and Rapunzel wasn't going to show up) Anyway, thanks so much for reading and reviewing! **

**BTW, I kinda just realized this, but: Jack, Roger, Robert, and now Sam and Simon…you can guess which book I happen to be reading in my English class right now, can't you? (And yes, Jack and Phillip were partially inspired by Samneric, and as was Armond by the aforementioned Jack). XD**

**Anyway, thanks again for reading and reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 0: The Tale of Edlyn Frewer

**I watched Tangled again with my sister recently, and got the inspiration to write up this little prequel about Eugene's mom. This chapter is rated ****T****, as some of the themes, language, and implications may be a little strong for kids.**

* * *

**Chapter 0: The Tale of Edlyn Frewer**

* * *

Edlyn knew something was wrong as soon as the messenger had knocked on their door.

No messengers came at this hour. Why, it well after dark. The moon provided most of the light in the room she sat in, nestled in her corner on a rickety brown stool too small for even someone much younger than she was, poking the fire without a sound. Lady Anne, the mistress of this household, sat on her lavender velvet sofa, fingering her almost white-blonde hair. Her son, little twelve-year-old Anthony, slept in his room above their heads.

Lady Anne was, in her most youthful days, most likely one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in the kingdom, surpassing the queen herself in natural regality. Her cheekbones were high and defined, her nose smooth and pointed, her eyes an emerald green, her brows thin and arched. But, it seemed, she had gotten a tad too used to looking so fair, while the demon that is time never gets used to anything. Now, the Lady of the Achain manor spent every morning powdering away any unseemly spots, rolling whatever contraptions and tools she can find on her still forming wrinkles, and bathing her hair in all sorts of strange potions to keep its color.

In hindsight, Edlyn should have known from the start that to be a pretty, very young girl in the house with such a mistress would be a very dangerous thing.

"Get the door, child," Lady Anne spat, without even looking at her young maid, but clearing wishing to call her something other than "child". She impatiently rapped her fingernails on the carved wood of her sitting room table as Edlyn rose. Minding her swelled stomach, the girl made her way to the doorway. "Can't you go any FASTER! ?" her mistress snapped suddenly, slamming her hands on the table harshly enough to send the golden vase on it shaking.

"I'm sorry, madam," Edlyn whispered. She shrank back into her brown hair, her face hidden, "it's just, the baby—"

"The baby, the baby, the baby, that is your excuse for everything!" Lady Anne jumped from her sofa. She shoved past her maid, marching to the door herself. "And the door remains unopen. Do you have any use anymore?"

"I'm sorry." Edlyn said, as quietly as a mouse's squeak.

Taking a second to regain her composure, Lady Anne opened the door.

There stood a man, dressed in a black tunic with a similar hood hung over his head, casting a shadow over his face.

"No." Lady Anne gasped. Eldyn's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. There was only one reason for the messenger to be dressed like that.

Sir Herbert had left the house to fight off barbarians from the north who had been attacking smaller villages past the woods. It had only been three months. Surly he could not have…

"I am saddened to tell you that, three weeks ago, the owner of this manor, the great knight Sir Herbert, fell in battle. We got this message to you as fast as we could. His death was honorable. Further information will come in time. Good day, madam." The man bowed, and left the doorstep without another word.

The silence hung in the air. Only the crackle of the fire made any kind of sound.

Edlyn stood, tiny breaths escaping her lips. Sir Herbert. Dead. No, it cannot be. This must be some sort of nightmare.

She remembered the day he hired her. His handsome, sweet face, chocolate brown hair combed back away from his eyes, smiling at her with his shining white teeth.

"Oh, my dear Miss Frewer," he had said, taking her hands in his, letting them rest on his silk vest, "you have such a grace, such a light, it's a shame to see you working this little shop. Please, come work in my house. I'm sure you will be much happier there."

She had been so thrilled then, going to work with such a nice man.

And he was exceptionally nice, too. He never spoke to her as is she was a lowly maid. He spoke to her with kindness and respect. He joked with her, laughed with her, talked of his day and matters of politics, which a man rarely concerned a woman with. He listened to her thoughts and her ideas.

All under the watchful glare of Lady Anne.

And then, there was the night.

He and Lady Anne had fought.

Edlyn was fixing his clothes in his room.

He burst in.

He grabbed her.

He kissed her.

Her heart fluttered, her mind reeled.

He lifted her into his arms, and carried her away from the closet.

And then…

Then, she felt tired. Then, she felt angry, and sad, and happy, all too quickly. Then, certain smells and certain foods made her feel so ill she couldn't stand to be around them. Then, her stomach started to get bigger, and bigger, and bigger…

Then, Lady Anne knew. She knew that Edlyn was with child. And she knew who the father was.

Then, Lady Anne no longer gave the girl glares from across the room, no. She ordered her about this way and that, day and night. She insulted her when the smallest thing went wrong, she sneered at her, screamed at her, threw her in her room and locked the door when she got her maddest. She told Anthony that Edlyn was not to be treated well, that she was a sinner and a seductress, practically a witch. But Anne was unfortunately smart enough to hide all of this from her husband, and Edlyn was far too afraid of her to tell.

A tear fell down Edlyn's cheek. Her hand pressed to her belly, rubbing her baby from the outside. What was to become of them now?

"You." Lady Anne snarled. "You."

She turned around, her eyes wild, almost animalistic, with fiery rage. With a snap, she dove toward her maid, nails bent like claws.

Eldyn yelped in fear, spinning on her heels to race to her tiny room. She closed it just in time, Anne banging at the door so hard she worried the woman might actually break it down.

"You WHORE!" the woman screeched, pounding on the wood with all her might, "You little _WHORE!" _

Balled up in her corner, Edlyn wanted so dearly to cry and cry, but she could only sit in soundless terror as her mistress's bashes grew faster and harder, shaking the door with each collision. Shutting her eyes, she held her child inside her, trying to cloud the sounds with thoughts of it.

The baby had been promised a house in the upper-kingdom. Small but stable, with a nice couple who would quietly take the baby and raise it as their own, had they been given a sizeable fee. She would be allowed to return to her job at the shop, and all of this could be behind her.

But she had the idea that this was not going to happen anymore.

Finally, with one last BANG, Lady Anne crashed through the door, ripping Edlyn from her place by her braid.

"You. You get out of my house. I tolerated you, I tolerated your tempting of my husband—"

Edlyn sobbed under the woman's grip, "I never meant to—"

"Shut up! I'll have nothing of your filthy lies. Get out of my house. Get out of my house _now!" _Still by her braid, Anne dragged the girl out of the room and to the door, not loosening her deathly hold. Just for a moment, Edlyn was able to look up to the stairs.

Anthony stood there, just a small form wrapped around the railing, small smirk on his face.

"But madam, what will happen to the baby—"

"You and your bastard can burn in Hell for all I care." Edlyn fell onto the ice cold stone of the front stoop, her breath ghosting into the chilled midnight air.

"Is the evil woman gone for good, Mother?" she heard Anthony say from inside the house.

"Yes, dear, she isn't coming back ever again."

"Good."

Edlyn clutched her stomach, pushing herself from the ground. The sky lay dark and cold above her. The street was silent, marble white, almost eerily so, and the heels of her worn boots began making the only sounds as she walked.

So this was it.

Where was she going to go?

She had no money. She had no food. She didn't even have a hole in the ground to provide shelter. And as all wealthy women were avid gossipers, she had no doubt in her mind that Lady Anne had her name thoroughly soiled to anyone for many streets down, possibly throughout the entire upper kingdom.

But maybe, if she just tried, she could get a bit of sympathy.

She made her way to a nearby house, one not as large or stately as her old home. Knocking on the smooth, carved wood, she held her breath and prayed.

The door opened slightly, just a sliver of light breaking through to the street. The lady of the house, dressed in a long white nightgown, looked at her with one eye through the slit.

"Madam, I was hoping you would please—" Edlyn began, but the door was slammed in her face. The street was once again dark.

She was all alone.

Possibly forever.

As she walked along the soundless streets, still desperately grasping her belly, she looked to the sky—dark and cold. Rumbling storm clouds loomed over her like an anger strait from above. Even the few stars able to shine through glared down at her, her dishonor, her worthlessness. Her thoughts drifted to her parents, and she could suddenly feel their eyes glaring down at her with the stars. Their daughter was with child, unmarried. What could be more shameful? What could tarnish their dead names further?

Shaking with exhaustion, coldness, and fear, Edlyn finally fell on a corner to rest her eyes. She rubbed her stomach thoughtlessly as silent tears again slide down her cheeks. A slow, deep breath rasped through her throat and she cried harder, letting all her despair flow from her and soak into the dirt. She cried for her baby. For the future it no longer will have. For its father. For his stupid kindness and care that brought her to this corner in the first place, but she still could not bring herself to hate at all. For her dread of what is to come. For the complete uncertainty of how she will possibly feed herself and her child.

She may have to beg. Or steal. Or worse.

Thunder crashed. Rain poured down. She scooted deeper into the corner. Then, she looked up to the sky, letting the raindrops wet her face.

"Why?" she whispered, barely above a breath.

And then, for the first time, she realized. Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday. Or maybe it was today, she didn't know what time it was then.

Edlyn was a woman now, or at least was supposed to be. She could not be a child any longer if she was to have one herself! But she felt like a tiny child, wrapped in her father's rough linen shirt, letting his rocking chair calm her fear of the flashing lightning and the heavy rain pattering down onto the thin wood of their roof. Her mother's candle flickered beside her, and she watched it dance back and forth, casting warm light over the walls. She closed her eyes, content and safe, and listened to a soft lullaby sung by her mother's sweet, quiet voice.

Another boom of thunder, and she was back on the street again, mud seeping through the cobblestones below her boots. She sighed as she fell back onto the wall behind her, dropping her head.

She felt it. And then she knew.

No.

No.

Impossible. Not now.

But the aching pain in her lower stomach was undeniable—as well as the water trickling down her thigh she had assumed was rainwater.

_No no no no no!_

She needed to find shelter…no, she needed to find shelter and some form of a midwife, if either of them were to make it to see the morning. Even if she was able to find a warm home, there was no telling if anyone there could help her give birth to her baby. Where on earth?

Then, a thought flickered in her mind. A small one, but a hopeful one. There was a place, not _too_ far into the lower-kingdom, that housed left-overs like herself. She was too old to go there when she was orphaned, but maybe it could give her a home, if not for a little while.

Shaking as she stood, Edlyn began walking down the empty road. She could not run, no, but she could wobble as fast as she could.

Clutching the walls beside her to keep herself from falling, she clambered along the cobblestone as she made her way across the Crossover street to the lower-kingdom, the only place where she'd get any sympathy whatsoever. There, a few stragglers still littered the streets, mostly darkly-hooded men lurking in the allyways and their female companions lounging on their shoulders. It did little to phase her; she lived near the lower-kingdom most of her life, she's seen what it was like.

A single light was on in one of the smaller buildings, and with that light she could read the sign in front of it: Coronian Home for Orphans.

With her last bit of energy, Edlyn staggered up to the front door and knocked, wishing, praying with all her heart that she won't lose her last chance.

A tired woman opened the door all the way.

"Its coming," she squeaked out, the ache in her abdomen hitting even harder than it was before, "and I had nowhere else to go."

Finally, something tonight decided to take mercy on her and go right—the woman nodded, and led her into the orphanage. Edlyn sighed, finally, with relief. The water trailed dripping behind her as she followed the woman to the back room, and Edlyn's heart finally slowed. She could work here. Assist this woman. Help raise her baby with someone who actually knew how.

Finally, she could see the light on the path ahead of her, and her baby.

* * *

**Would you believe I actually listened to "O Children" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds as I wrote much of the second half?**


End file.
